


The Parent Escape

by Snowjob



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Parent Trap Fusion, M/M, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Surprise Twins, military camp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-06-22 00:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15569751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowjob/pseuds/Snowjob
Summary: Billy Hargrove knew he'd been dealt a shitty hand in the game of life.  But he doesn't realize how shitty until he gets thrown into a juvie camp meant to straighten out troubled kids and meets his exact double.  Jason Scott, golden boy from Bumfuck, Indiana, shares way too much in common with him to be any kind of coincidence, and together they hatch a plan to find out what the hell is going on.It's a genius plan, Billy's a great actor.He just doesn't count on Jason's best friend to be sopretty.





	1. San Antonio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So full disclosure, I have no idea how a juvie camp in the 80s would be run, except badly, so please extend some magical realism with me and pretend this is something of how it was.

The heat is practically coming up in visible waves from the pavement as Billy steps off the bus, knock-off aviators sitting low on his nose, duffle bag slung easily over his left shoulder. The dust in the air burns his lungs, and his free hand instinctively reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket, before remembering he’d moved them to his jacket on account of he’s been sitting on his ass for the past two days. A jacket that he wears like armor, even in the Texas heat. He’s tugging the half-empty pack from his interior pocket when a black man in a weird looking uniform walks toward him, giving him a steady once over before finishing his approach. 

“You William Hargrove?”

“Billy,” Billy responds, tapping a cigarette from the pack and pulling it out using his lips, “You got a light?” To Billy’s surprise the man actually glances around before producing a cheap Bic lighter from his pocket.

“Shouldn’t,” he says, even as he thumbs at the flint in a well-practiced swipe, “but shit, kid, I had twenty bucks on you bailing somewhere around LA.” Billy raises an eyebrow as he leans in toward the flame, cigarette paper burning quickly as he takes a deep inhale.

“Can’t say I didn’t think about it,” smoke exhales through his mouth and nose as he relishes his first hit of nicotine in the past eight hours. The driver that picked up in El Paso didn’t stop for shit, and his dad had booked him on a non-smoking bus, likely a final “fuck you” for the summer. 

He takes another drag, offering the pack to the other man, surprised again when he takes it, taps one out, and hands it back to him before lighting up himself. 

“One last hurrah, yeah? They don’t allow this kinda stuff in there, you know?”

“Yeah, figured,” Billy says around the cigarette, taking a few steps into the shade of the bus station overpass. Dry heat his ass, it’s hot as _fuck_ in San Antonio. The man follows him, and for a second Billy allows himself the tiniest bit of hope that this summer might not be so bad. 

“Name’s Collins,” the man says, flicking his cigarette and not offering his hand, “I’m in charge of transportation and deliveries.”

“And which one am I?”

“I’ll decide once we get to the van.” He takes one more drag before tossing the butt to the ground and crushing it underneath his boot heel. Billy is loathe to follow suit but does so anyway, knowing he’s likely already pushed his luck to the limit. He follows Collins through the bus terminal and into a dusty parking lot to a rickety looking conversion van. Maybe he’ll get lucky and it’ll explode on the way. 

“Toss your bag in the back, you can sit up front so long as you promise not to jump from the car.”

“Well shit, don’t go giving me ideas now, Collins,” Billy jokes, hoping a little levity will win him some points. Really, besides his dad, Billy’s always been pretty good at charming adults. Even half the police force in Emeryville thought he was an okay kid who just made some bad decisions. Teachers liked him, his friends’ parents liked him, it was just his own parent who saw him as a worthless piece of shit who needed to be taught some discipline. ‘Tough love’ he liked to call it. 

Billy slings his bag into the back of the van, among boxes of plastic cutlery and hotdog buns, before hopping into the front seat. Pop cans and fast food wrappers litter the footwell, the smell suggesting not all of them had been completely empty before being balled up and tossed. He shoots a baleful glance at Collins - getting situated in the driver’s seat - before reclining his own seat back as far as it can go. After nearly two days on the ridgid seats of the Greyhound this was paradise. 

“Drive’s about 45 minutes. Get some shut eye if you need, cause when you get to SACC they’re gonna run you til nightfall.” Collins warns before slipping the key into the ignition. To Billy’s surprise the engine turns on the first try, vibrating the floor boards just enough to feel soothing. 

“Thanks man,” he says, and means it. The heat and the travel exhaustion leave his eyelids heavy, and it’s not a challenge at all to let sleep overtake him. 

He dreams about the ocean. 

 

++++

 

Too soon he’s being shaken awake, startled out of sleep by a pair of hands gripping onto his left arm. 

“C’mon kid, time to pay the piper.” It takes Billy a full 15 seconds to remember who’s talking and where he is. And then it all comes flooding back to him. The stolen car, the vandalism, his dad’s fists, Susan crying. He rubs a hand over his face, nudging his sunglasses into his tangled curls as he pushes his fingertips into his eyes so hard he starts to see spots. 

“Best if you sit up, first impressions and all,” the man, _Collins, Billy remembers_ , says as he puts the van back into drive. Billy’s hand gropes blindly for the lever, squeezing it and snapping the seat forward so fast he thinks he might have whiplash. He’s rubbing at his neck as the van makes the transition from paved to dirt roads, shocks so worn every rock and divot is felt. He takes these last few moments to rub the sleep out of his eyes and tuck his sunglasses into his front pocket before attempting to detangle his hair. Collins is right about one thing, first impressions are everything, especially in a place like this. 

“You ready?” He asks as the van comes rumbling up to a heavy chain link fence, complete with barbed wire on top.

“Not like I have much choice,” Billy mutters, giving up on his hair and wishing he’d thought of a way to sneak his cigarettes in. Or some weed. Fuck, some weed would be _great_ right now. 

Another guy in a weird uniform comes up to the van, and Collins rolls down the window and hands a few papers and a card to him. Billy gulps, throat gone dry as he watches the man’s eyes scan over the papers, and after a quick hand signal the gate is rolled open. He hands everything back to Collins, who accepts with a nod before setting the small pile on the dash and putting the van back into drive. The window stays open despite all the dust they’re kicking up on the road, and Billy is able to smell the mixture of sun and sweat and dirt. 

It’s not long before they’re surrounded by ugly tan buildings and a dead looking field, grass fried from the scorching sun and lack of water. Goddamn he misses Cali. There are some people in uniforms like Collins’, but mostly he sees guys around his age wearing a white t-shirt tucked into khaki pants and heavy boots, doing stuff that looks like calisthenics or drills like they’d do in gym class when Coach was feeling particularly sinister. 

Collins parks the van in front of a large but otherwise nondescript building. A man in fatigues and a crew cut is standing outside, eyeing the vehicle, mouth quirked up as his gaze lands on Billy. 

“Ho-ly shit, he actually came,” the man crows in a heavy southern accent as he walks over to the van. “Ya owe me twenty bucks there, Coll.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll get it to ya. Where’m I takin’ ‘im?”

“Barrack 6, uniform’s on his bunk,” he gives Billy another scrutinizing look, “we’ll deal with the hair later.” Billy tries to keep the terror out of his eyes as Collins nods, putting the van into drive once more. His heart is beating wildly as they drive across the campus, passing another group of… cadets? Prisoners? Billy looks harder this time, trying to see if the guy was using a scare tactic, or if it was a real threat. None of the boys seem to have long hair, but not many have a shorn look, either, at least as much as he can tell as the van moves along. He guesses he could ask Collins, but doesn’t want to show his hand so soon. 

They roll to a stop in front of a grey building with a large 6 painted on the side. Collins puts the car in park and turns to look at Billy.

“Listen, kid, I’m not gonna lie, this place sucks. But keep your head down and your nose clean and you’ll be okay.”

“Are they gonna…” he trails off, pointing towards his hair. Collins presses his lips together, making Billy’s gut clench. 

“Well,” he says after a moment, “the good news is mullets are on their way out. And hair grows back, so just deal with it.” His words belay the softness in his eyes, a sadness Billy is surprised to find is for him. 

“Thanks, Collins,” he says before setting the slightly crumpled, half-empty pack of cigarettes on the center console, “Hang onto these for me, will ya?” And then he’s squeezing the handle and releasing the door latch. He hops out and takes a couple seconds to stretch his back out before going around to grab his bag. Collins gives him a small salute as the truck rumbles off, and Billy is left alone in front of the ugly barracks. He slings his bag over his right shoulder, takes a deep breath, and struts in. 

+++++

It doesn’t take long for Billy to learn the ropes around this place. Years of navigating Neil’s temper have taught him how to read facial tics and body language, know when to push and when to bow. 

But that’s just with the sergeants. 

The cadets are a whole other matter. Billy doesn’t have to waste time reading them, he just has to _own_ them. Assert his dominance and sit on the top of the pile. All it takes is a couple of punches before he’s the head of his barracks. After that he can rely mostly on word of mouth and attitude to raise him to the top ranks of the whole campus. 

It’s a whole week before he’s finally led to the make-shift barber shop. He puts on a ‘fuck if I care’ face, but on the inside his heart is beating a mile a minute. For just a few seconds he contemplates fighting his way out and making a break for it, but knows it would be stupid, pointless. Too many people to stop him, and nowhere to run. Story of his fuckin life. 

He sucks in a breath and clenches his fists as he hears the razor start up, pushing down the bile as he feels its teeth on the back of his neck, curly locks dropping to the ground. _It’s just hair, it’s just hair_ repeats over and over in his head, but it’s not, not really. It’s _him_ , being erased in this place. 

It’s too long and no time at all before the razor stops, and he feels hands brushing stray strands off his shoulders. He pries his eyes open, not even sure when he shut them, and looks at his new hair. He blinks back the tears, absolutely unwilling to show that kind of weakness, and hears his father’s slurs in his head.

Fuck but his dad would _love_ this haircut.

He juts out his chin, nods at the men essentially keeping him captive, and goes out the door. Normally the fresh air would help him keep his composure, but all he sucks in is heat and dust, and it makes him want to scream. He bites down on his bottom lip and starts heading back to the barracks when he hears someone shouting at him. 

“Jason? Yo, Jason! Where the fuck’re you headed? We’re at the wall.” Billy gives him a sneer and keeps moving, right until he feels fingers clasp around his arm. He doesn’t even have time to think before his body is twisting around and he’s decking the guy in the jaw. A couple cadets he hadn’t even noticed come running over, one excitedly shouting “Fight!” while the other stares at them with eyes like saucers. 

The other guy stands up, hand on his jaw, and glares at Billy, “Jason, what the fuck? Why the fuck di’you hit me?”

“Who the _fuck_ is Jason?” Billy spits, getting ready to throw another punch when he hears a shrill whistle. He drops his fist and puts his hands behind his head, palms brushing up against the foreign prickle of his new haircut.

“Scott! Marsden! The fuck’s going on?” Billy snaps his eyes at the approaching sergeant, letting his arms fall to his sides. 

“Scott decked Marsden!” The excited kid, a toothy redhead, practically shouts, and Billy is so far past confused now. He turns to face the sergeant. 

“Sir, I’m not Jason, or Scott, or Marsden-”

“ _I’m_ Marsden-”

“I don’t fuckin’ care, my name is Billy Hargrove, I’m in barrack six, and my CO is gonna be looking for me.” 

“F’you’re in barrack six why’re you all the way over here?”

“Getting my haircut... sir,” he tacks that last bit on, knowing men who think they’re the authority liked to hear it, and he doesn’t want to get tossed in the brig or the hole or whatever the fuck they call it around here, whatever’s worse than the prison he’s already in. The guy gives Billy a hard look, eyes squinting, and even leans in a little before sucking at his teeth and pulling the radio from his belt. 

“Sgt. Ford, you copy?” It’s a few seconds before the radio clicks and a fuzzy “ _Copy_ ,” is heard. 

“This is Sgt. Kern, you have eyes on Jason Scott?”

“ _Sure do. Just finished the wall._ ”

“That so?” Kern drawls, eyes never leaving Billy. 

“ _Yep. Why, want me to put him on?_ ”

“Nope, just clearing up some stuff. Over and out.” He clicks the radio back onto his belt, still staring at Billy. “You boys get back to where you’re headed, Hargrove and I are gonna take a walk to barrack six.” The three boys take off immediately, and Billy grits his teeth as Kern grabs his arm, leading him roughly back to where he’d been headed in the first place. Billy may not know who Jason Scott is, but he’s _definitely_ going to beat his ass for this.


	2. Jason Scott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a couple days before the whole camp is buzzing with the words _Scott_ and _Hargrove_. Even the sergeants seem in on it, standing in pairs and pointing at Billy as he performs tasks or runs laps. His skin itches with it, makes him want to beat this Jason Scott even worse. It’s one thing to have people watching you because they’re impressed, envious, turned on… Billy thrives off that energy. Craves it like a drug. But this, _this_ is something different. Something he has no control over. This is like someone pointing at the bruising on his arms and whispering rumors on how he got them. Less about him, more about the situation he’s in.
> 
> Well fuck that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some possibly considered psychological abuse at the end of the chapter. Not sure if it's enough to warrant a flag but I got a little anxious while writing it so I figured it could at least be mentioned, so heads up if you're sensitive to that. 
> 
> Also, little shorty chapter this time, hoping the next one will be quite a bit longer!

Apparently the facility is huge, as no one in his barracks has ever heard of someone named Jason Scott. Billy ends his interrogations with, “You see this face, and it doesn’t respond to _Hargrove_ , you slug them in the nose and you come find me.” He’s sure he sounds crazy, but fuck it, he’s top of the food-chain around here, and it’s definitely not the first time a monarch’s gone a little unhinged. 

It’s a couple days before the whole camp is buzzing with the words _Scott_ and _Hargrove_. Even the sergeants seem in on it, standing in pairs and pointing at Billy as he performs tasks or runs laps. His skin itches with it, makes him want to beat this Jason Scott even worse. It’s one thing to have people watching you because they’re impressed, envious, turned on… Billy thrives off that energy. Craves it like a drug. But this, _this_ is something different. Something he has no control over. This is like someone pointing at the bruising on his arms and whispering rumors on how he got them. Less about him, more about the situation he’s in.

Well fuck that.

So he goes looking, searching every face for one that sparks familiar. He gets in trouble for knocking hats off cadets who won’t comply, for falling out of formation to kick at someone who has the same jawline, for jumping line at dinner cause he thought he saw himself out of the corner of his eye...

Which is how he ends up on mess hall duty for a week, eating last and cleaning everyone’s trays, swabbing down the floors and the tables and stinking like rancid milk. For the first time he’s happy his hair got shorn; there’s no way he’d ever get the smell out of it. 

He’s bussing trays for barrack three when it happens. The worst part is he hadn’t even been looking, too focused on not retching, when someone bumped into his shoulder. 

“Hey, watch the fuck-” he starts, turning with a snarl, but stops short as his own face glares right back at him. And really, Billy had been on the lookout for someone who _kind of_ looked like him, maybe a similar nose or chin or whatever, but not actually the _exact same fuckin face_. 

“What the fu-” it was weird, weirder than he thought it would be, to punch himself in the face. Definitely didn’t feel as good as he thought it would. But Billy had a point to prove, and a throne to keep, so no matter how unsettling it was to watch his mirror image grab his jaw and stumble backwards, he had to do it. 

“FIGHT!” Some kid screams from behind him, and within seconds they’re surrounded by hollering cadets, banging on tables and clapping trays together. The guy, who Billy can only assume to be Jason, wipes at the blood gathering on his upper lip, smearing it across his face in a move Billy knows all too well, before coming at him, fists flying. He’s erratic, hard to dodge, but nothing lands in a vital spot. The guy’s strong, sure, but has no idea how to fight. Billy laughs off the attack, blood in his teeth, before slamming him again on the cheekbone, making his head snap to the side before he drops to the ground. He has half a second to wonder if maybe he’s done some serious damage before a pair of strong hands are pushing him down to the ground, forcing his arms behind his back, temple pressed to the dirty floor. He knows better than to struggle, but still tries to tilt his head up to see what happened to the other guy. 

It’s a weird sense of relief, as he’s being hauled up to his feet, to see Jason in a similar state - hands bound behind his back, being partially held up by a grim-faced sergeant. 

“The fuck’s wrong with you two?” The man spits, shaking Jason a little, glaring at Billy. “This shit Do Not fly here, you hear me?” Both boys nod, blood dripping from their faces. He lets Jason’s arms go with a bit of a shove, and whoever’s got a hold of Billy follows suit, making him stumble forward, putting him right next to Jason. 

“Huh, well ain’t that somethin’… you even got matching bruises now, ya dumb fucks. You,” he points a finger at Jason, “clean up this mess hall. And you,” he flicks his finger toward Billy, “Trash detail. Get moving.” Billy shoots one more glare at Jason before turning heel and heading out the door, letting it slam shut even though he’ll probably catch hell for that later. The only thing worse than mess hall duty was fuckin trash detail. _Fuck Jason Scott_.

Billy retrieves the wheelbarrow from the equipment shed and goes around dumping the bins and hauling the refuse to the big dumpster next to the gate. The smell is worse than the mess hall slop and the heat is excruciating but he keeps going, knows from experience that worse things happen when you don’t follow directions. And no matter how bad it gets, it can _always_ be worse. 

As he’s dumping out the last load he flexes his right hand, knuckles sore but otherwise still intact. He snorts a little; it had barely even been a fight, next time he’ll get in at least four or five good hits. 

Because there’s definitely going to be a next time. 

 

+++++

 

In fact there are six more “next times” before he and Jason are finally hauled into the head office. Billy suspects the sergeants were actually rather enjoying the fights they’d get into, having noticed that their barracks were suddenly assigned to duties together far more regularly than any other group, which always resulted in one of them going after the other. This last time, though, things had gotten out of control. The other boys started to take sides and get into their own fights, until they almost had a riot on their hands. It had taken roughly thirty minutes to get everyone separated and back on task, and even then a few small fights would break out every few minutes. 

So now the two look-alikes are on a bench, a mean looking sergeant standing in front of them, waiting to see what their fates will be. Billy’s gut churns at the thought of being sent home. If that’s the case he might actually take off in LA; the streets would be safer than his house at that point. There’s a lot of things Neil doesn’t tolerate, and second from the top is failure. 

Billy doesn’t like to think about what tops that list. 

He’s halfway through mapping out an idea of where he’ll be able to sleep and find food when the office door opens. A short, thin man with a bald head and dark mustache steps out, and Billy’s a little surprised to see him in a normal suit and tie rather than the fatigues the sergeants all wear. 

“Hargrove, Scott, in here.” They both jump up, and Billy can’t help but elbow Jason a little as he squeezes into the room before him. Petty, maybe, but he figures if he’s about to be kicked out he’s gotta get while the gettin’s good. Or whatever it is people say. 

The man gestures to a couple of chairs as he leans against the side of a desk that looks like it cost more than Billy’s house. There were brass and gold knick knacks, a framed picture facing away from them, a small American flag, a neat pile of papers, and a phone with about forty buttons, two of which were lighting up. It’s the most grown-up setting Billy’s ever seen, like something from that TV show Susan likes so much. He’s pretty sure it takes place in Texas, too. 

“William Hargrove and Jason Scott,” the man mutters, flipping through the short stack of papers in his hands, “seems you two are causing a lot of shit down in my camp. Sgt. Kern and Sgt. Richards think I should send you both out, big ol’ stamp in your permanent record stating you as lost causes,” he slams his hand down on the stack of papers, both boys jerking a little at the sudden movement. 

“Well, lucky for you boys, they’re not in charge. I am. And I’ve got a reputation to keep. This _facility_ has a reputation to keep. So here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re going to go down to your barracks. You’re going to gather up whatever shit you brought here. You’re going to wave goodbye to your little friends. And you’re going to be out front of Barrack Eleven at 1800 hours, or I’ll take your fuckin bunks and put you on trash detail for the rest of the goddam summer.” There’s a smile on the man’s face that doesn’t reach his eyes, straight white teeth gleaming like a shark underneath his neatly trimmed mustache, “We clear?” 

“Yes sir,” they mutter in unison, then immediately glare at each other, making the warden or CEO or whoever the fuck he is bark out a laugh. 

“Je _sus_ , you just can’t help yourselves, can you? Listen, once you’re away from the other cadets I don’t give a _shit_ what you do. Beat each other to a pulp for all I care, as long as you both can walk out of here on August 15th,” and with that he stands up straight, adjusts the cuffs of his jacket, and heads around to the other side of his desk. He’s just about to sit down when he snaps his fingers, creepy smile crossing over his face once more. 

“Oh, and whichever the fuck one of you is Hargrove, your father is expecting a glowing report from us when you return, and I don’t think you want to disappoint him.” Billy’s stomach clenches so hard he think he might throw up, but he’s still able to nod curtly before turning to head out of the room.

“I haven’t dismissed you!” Billy freezes in his tracks, panic welling up in his throat as he wonders what exactly they’re planning to tell his father before he hears a harsh laugh. “I’m kidding, get out of my fuckin’ office.” And Billy would have loved nothing more than to run out of that room, but his survival skills are on point, and predators, even small ones with sharp teeth, live to chase scared prey. So he walks out very steadily, face a cool mask even as his heart hammers in his chest. 

They’re a good twenty feet away from the building before Billy feels like he can properly breathe again, and even laughs a little when Jason whispers, “ _What a prick_ ,” just under his breath. He still hates the guy, but the urge to slug him in his pretty face (Billy knows he’s a looker, no shame in that) has oddly abated. 

“Hey,” he says after a few more minutes of silent walking, “where the fuck is barrack eleven?”


	3. Barrack Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the hell do they even use this thing for?” Jason asks as he tries to wipe the grime off the eastern window, but just succeeds in smearing it around. 
> 
> “They don’t.” Billy grunts as he hauls the mattress back in, “Probably an old ranger’s station that was on the property when they bought it. Cheaper to let it rot than knock it down.” He tosses his mattress back onto the dilapidated frame and makes a mental note to sneak back into his old barracks and steal his bedding. He picks his duffle off the floor and dumps it out over the bed, separating his uniform clothes, refolding them and setting them on the counter, and grabs up his denim jacket. It feels like a lifetime since he last put it on, when it’s really only been about three weeks. He holds it up to his nose, imagining the salty smell of the ocean, before shrugging his arms through the sleeves. It’s still way too warm to wear, but _god_ does it feel good to have on. Like a second skin. Like armor.
> 
> “Nice jacket.”
> 
> “Fuck off.”

Billy spends all of ten minutes in his empty barrack: three to shove his meager belongings back into his duffle, and seven to go through his CO’s shit, pilfering a Big Hunk candy bar, a half-empty pack of Camels, and an honest-to-god map of the facilities. His suspicions were correct; this place is fuckin _huge_. A good four miles across, three deep. His eyes scan for barrack eleven, but for all he can see they stop at ten. Maybe that’s the joke- there is no barrack eleven and he and Jason _are_ actually being kicked out. He’s about to go back into the CO’s pockets to find his lighter or some money or even just a bus pass when he hears voices approaching. He dives back to his bed, shoving his stolen goods into his bag and zipping it up just before the door swings open. 

His CO, _fuckin Richards_ , ambles in, a rolled up magazine in his fist and a leery grin on his face that drops when he sees Billy, and returns when he sees the packed duffle sitting on his bed. 

“Shiiiiit, they actually kicked your ass out? Heh, can’t believe Brecker listened to me.”

“He didn’t,” Billy double checks the little pocket on the side, making sure his necklace is still secure, “gettin’ moved to Barrack 11.” 

“Barrack ele-? HA! You mean that shed out in the woods? Fffff, good luck with that.”

“Better than here,” Billy responds, zipping up the pocket and slinging the duffle onto his back. He walks toward the door, stops and looks pointedly at the magazine still clutched in Richards’ sweaty fist before smirking and shaking his head, “Should probably hurry up, mess hall’s almost over.”

“Fuck you! Get the fuck out of my barrack.”

“Glad to,” Billy shoulders past him, flipping his middle finger up over his head without turning around as he trounces down the barrack steps. He should probably figure out where the hell Barrack 11 actually is, but the rumbling of his stomach pulls him toward the mess hall instead. 

The kitchen’s already closed down, but there are plenty of cadets still eating. Billy zeroes in on a particular pain in the ass from his barrack, well, his _old_ barrack anyway, and saunters over to where he’s sitting. Without a word he grabs the sad excuse of a burger off the kid’s tray and shoves half of it in his mouth. It’s dry as shit - no condiments, stale bun - but it’s something. The kid’s gawking, sputtering something unintelligible as Billy chews, swallows with a bit of a grimace, and proceeds with devouring the other half. 

“That... that was mine!”

“Was it?” Billy says, half-chewed chunks flying out of his mouth, “Tastes like mine.” And then, just to prove his point, he snatches up the opened milk carton, downing it in one swallow. “Oh yeah,” he adds as he tosses the empty carton back onto the tray, “Richards says he needs to see you in the barracks. Like, _now_ ,” and with that he lets out a huge belch, gives a two finger salute, and strolls back out the door. 

Truth be told the burp was absolutely disgusting, but Billy’s got a reputation to keep, dammit. 

He gets to barrack ten before remembering he has no idea where eleven even _is_ , and takes a minute to pull the map out. Richards had said something about it being out in the woods, so he lets his eyes scan over the top half of the map, away from the main facilities, and suppresses a groan when he sees a speck nestled in the middle of a blanket of trees with “11” scrawled next to it. 

“Fuck me,” he mutters, fingers gripping the edge of the map so hard it starts to tear. He forces himself to relax, taking in a deep breath through his mouth and releasing it slowly through his nose. His math teacher, Mr. Sarkesian, had taught him that trick his freshman year of high school. He closes his eyes and does it one more time, feeling his muscles unbunch as he breathes out. When he opens his eyes he’s startled to see Jason at the corner of barrack 10, watching him. 

“The fuck you’re looking at?” He bites, body immediately going tense again. Jason, surprisingly, doesn’t back down, doesn’t even flinch.

“That help?” He asks, nodding in Billy’s direction. Billy’s left hand gravitates up, twisting at the strap of his duffle.

“Sometimes.” Jason nods more surely this time, then looks out towards where the trees meet the field. 

“Heard barrack eleven’s out that way.” 

“Yeah,” Billy takes a few steps forward, slapping the map into Jason’s chest, “right in the middle of fuckin nowhere.” 

They walk in silence, the shadows of the trees getting longer as the sun dips low in the horizon behind them. Billy feels like they’re walking into darkness, figuratively and literally. They have no idea who, if anyone, is waiting for them. That man, _Brecker_ , Billy guesses, never said they’d be assigned a new CO. Hell, he probably never meant for them to actually find barrack eleven in the first place. 

“It’s gotta be just up here,” Jason says, squinting at the map in the dying light. Billy rolls his eyes; once they’d hit the trees the map was useless. And once the sun sets they’re really going to be fucked, not knowing which way is east anymore. 

It’s really dumb luck that he sees it. He had been turning to fish out the Big Hunk from his bag when he catches a glimpse of something angular, solid, just beyond the cluster of trees to their right. He lets out a sharp whistle to signal to Jason before tromping through the overgrowth towards what he can only hope to barrack eleven. 

++++++

It’s barely a cabin, more like a glorified shack: a couple of beds, a couple of windows, a naked bulb in the center of the ceiling, and a door that’s only _just_ hanging onto the hinges. Dust shoots up into the air when Jason tosses his bag onto one of the rickety looking beds. 

“Fuck, hope you don’t have allergies,” he says, covering his mouth with a hand as he backs away from the cloud of dust hovering in front of him. Billy curses, setting his bag on the floor and searching for a broom, a dustpan, _anything_ to make this place actually livable for the next month. 

He finds a long-outdated radio system covered in dust, an empty cabinet, and, thankfully, a tiny closet with a broom, dustpan, and a bucket with rags inside of it. He sets about sweeping the floors, ignoring Jason’s stares in favor of not having to walk over mouse poop for the rest of the summer. He uses a rag to wipe off the bristles, then pulls the twin mattress off of his bed and brings it to the door, wapping it over and over with the broom, making the dust fly in the waning daylight. It’s probably all in vain; the mattress is likely more dust than fabric now, but the action makes him feel almost productive. 

He’s a little shocked when he turns to go back into the room and sees that Jason had grabbed a rag from the bucket and is wiping down whatever surfaces the little cabin has: a couple of countertops, the desk that houses the defunct radio, two window sills. 

“What the hell do they even use this thing for?” Jason asks as he tries to wipe the grime off the eastern window, but just succeeds in smearing it around. 

“They don’t.” Billy grunts as he hauls the mattress back in, “Probably an old ranger’s station that was on the property when they bought it. Cheaper to let it rot than knock it down.” He tosses his mattress back onto the dilapidated frame and makes a mental note to sneak back into his old barracks and steal his bedding. He picks his duffle off the floor and dumps it out over the bed, separating his uniform clothes, refolding them and setting them on the counter, and grabs up his denim jacket. It feels like a lifetime since he last put it on, when it’s really only been about three weeks. He holds it up to his nose, imagining the salty smell of the ocean, before shrugging his arms through the sleeves. It’s still way too warm to wear, but _god_ does it feel good to have on. Like a second skin. Like armor.

“Nice jacket.”

“Fuck off.”

“No I’m serious, man, it’s good.” Billy glares but doesn’t comment, snatching the smokes he’d filched and slipping them into the left breast pocket. He’s gonna have to find a lighter somewhere, maybe a book of matches, anything so he can light one of these suckers up. When he looks back at the bed Jason’s next to it, Billy’s stolen copy of _Firestarter_ in his hand, polaroid of him and Max pinched gingerly between two fingers.

“Hey, who’s-”

The words are punched out of him as Billy rushes him against the wall, slamming his shoulders into the old wood as the photo wafts to the floor.

“Don’t _touch_ my _fucking shit_ ,” he seethes, eyes wild, blood boiling just beneath the surface. Jason’s own eyes go wide, but his mouth pinches, like he wants to push back but knows he doesn’t have the upper hand here. And suddenly Billy is looking at _himself_ , at what Neil must have seen more than a few dozen times; eyes scared but determined, jaw clenched in acceptance and in wait. It curdles something in Billy’s stomach, and he lets go in a flash, pushing back from Jason to get away faster. He turns, running a hand over his shorn hair, left hand going for his necklace and coming away empty, before turning back. Jason is still against the wall, white shirt puckered where Billy’d gripped it. 

“Just…” he starts, hand dropping from his head, “Just _ask_ before you go grabbing things. Got it?” Jason nods and slowly pulls himself away from the wall, going back to his bed. He picks up the fallen photo on the way, holding it out for Billy.

“Sister?” He asks cautiously, keeping the bed carefully between them.

“Step-sister.” Billy says, reaching over and taking the polaroid from his hands. It’s a picture of the two of them, from about two months ago. Max had been playing with Susan’s new camera, wasting film on a bunch of blurry photos of shit around the house. Billy’d tried to warn her their parents were gonna be pissed, but she’d just leaned against him and pulled a face, getting both of them in the snapshot: Billy’s grinning despite himself, reaching for the camera, as Max crossed her eyes and puffed out her cheeks, red hair absolutely everywhere. Billy’d taken it from her once it was developed, saying he didn’t want any evidence that he’d been a part of the Great Waste, but, really, it was a good picture. A reminder that it wasn’t always all bad. 

“She seems fun.”

“Yeah.” Billy doesn’t feel like talking about Max, about how he’d gotten sent away just when things were really starting to settle between them, when they were no longer looking at one another as though they were strangers in a hostage situation. About how they’re probably going to have to start from square one when he gets back, or worse, that Neil will start taking his frustration out on her now that Billy’s not around. He shoves the picture back into the book and sets it on the counter, flopping down on the bed, using his left arm as a makeshift pillow. He glares at the dim bulb in the center of the ceiling before covering his eyes with his right arm

“Get the light, would you? I gotta get some fuckin sleep.”

“Sure.” He hears Jason move around for a couple more minutes, then the soft _snickt_ of a bulb cord being pulled, and finally the light rasp of fabric against fabric as the other boy climbs into bed. 

It’s blissfully quiet for a few minutes, no snores from the other cadets, from _fuckin Richards_ , just the gentle sounds of the woods, of crickets and cicadas, of wind through the trees. 

He’s nearly asleep when he hears the springs creak from across the room, and isn’t surprised at all when it’s followed by a soft voice. 

“Hey... Billy?”

“ _What_.” 

“Why’d you punch me, that first time?” Billy slides his hand over his face and up into his hair, before remembering it’s all gone, and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“ _Jesus_ , do we have to do this?”

“I wanna know. I think I _deserve_ to know.” Billy’s quiet for a minute, thinks about why he was so consumed with the need to find Jason even before he knew him and punch his lights out. 

“‘Cause you got my _god damn_ face.” 

“Yeah… _how_?”

“I got no fuckin clue.”

There’s a pause, long enough that Billy starts to think Jason gave up, or fell asleep, when he hears the whispered response, “ _We need to find out._ ”


	4. Alone Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It occurs to Billy he could always just... go without him. Life would be simpler, for sure. But there’s a lingering fear that if he ditches him the guy’s going to get lost in the woods or get eaten or taken or some such bullshit that will then land squarely on Billy’s head and he’ll end up in jail over clone murder that he _didn’t even_ get to commit. 
> 
> So he waits.

Billy wakes up to sunlight in his face and a dull ache in his back. The grime on the windows does nothing to keep the light out, and the mattress is more spring than cushion, but on the upside there’s no horn blasting outside his walls or CO screaming in his ears. 

He shifts his head to the side and sees Jason still passed out across the room, right arm and leg dangling over the edge of his bed, face mashed into the mattress, and hopes he doesn’t look that dopey when _he’s_ asleep. 

The rumbling of his stomach urges him to actually get up, and as he eases off the squeaky mattress and stretches out the kinks in his back he’s struck with the fact that he and Jason were essentially sent off to nowhere, with nothing, and still haven’t been checked on. For all the sergeants know he’s killed Jason, disposed of the body, and is halfway to Las Vegas by now. Or they’re both dead from exposure. 

How’d that be for their fucking reputation?

He shoots another glance at Jason, and has to physically stop himself from kicking at his bed frame to wake him up, remembering the look in his face as he’d had him pinned against the wall the other night. Billy’d always promised himself he wasn’t going to turn into Neil, and what better way to prove that declaration than by _not_ beating on the kid that looks _exactly like him_.

“Hey,” he says instead, then, a little louder, “Hey!” Jason grumbles and turns over, searching for a blanket that’s not there. 

“C’mon, we need to get something to eat before mess closes.” Billy shrugs out of his denim jacket, oddly creased from being slept in, and lays it on his bed before pulling off his shirt and grabbing a fresh one from the counter. He hears the bed springs groan again as he’s pushing his head through the neck hole.

“Time is it?” Billy finishes tugging his shirt into place before turning toward Jason with a glare.

“You see a fuckin clock in here? I got no clue what time it is, which is why we gotta hurry the fuck up,” he punctuates this by throwing his soiled shirt at Jason, sweat stained and dirty from their trek to the cabin. He splutters as it lands over his head, falling off of the twin mattress in his haste to get away from it. 

It occurs to Billy he could always just... go without him. Life would be simpler, for sure. But there’s a lingering fear that if he ditches him the guy’s going to get lost in the woods or get eaten or taken or some such bullshit that will then land squarely on Billy’s head and he’ll end up in jail over clone murder that he _didn’t even_ get to commit. 

So he waits. 

At least Jason’s moving now, standing up and changing into fresh clothes. They’d both fallen asleep in full dress, too tired and leery of the lack of blankets to step out of their pants before flopping onto their respective beds. Billy looks, down, assessing the dirt and creases marring his own khakis, and wonders if he could get away with wearing them for one more day. Normally there’d be a CO screaming at him about being orderly, but, fuck ‘em. They’ve still gotta trek through the woods to get back to the active part of the compound anyway, might as well not muddy up another pair so soon. 

“That’s good enough, let’s go,” he shouts as he slips on his cap, not even checking to see what state of dress Jason’s in before taking steps towards the door. He hears a bit of scuffling behind him, but as suspected, he’s not alone when he walks out the door. 

“You remember how to get back?” Jason asks as he steps out, securing his own hat, and Billy scoffs a little to see he’d changed into clean pants. He hopes he can find that huge mud puddle again.

“Yeah, think so.”

+++++

By the time they make it to the mess hall Jason and Billy’s pants are indistinguishable from each other, both muddied and creased, making Billy smirk inwardly. 

The hall is almost empty, just a handful of stragglers left, and no one serving up any slop. Billy looks around for anything he can snag to ease the gnawing at his stomach, but even the trays still out don’t have much on them. He pulls the remnants of a tray over to him, the previous user scurrying away and out of the building before Billy could even tell him to scram. There’s half a sausage link, a scraping of oatmeal, and a spoonful of partially dried out scrambled eggs, but he downs it all, and immediately starts searching for his next forage. He knows hungry, remembers the days before Susan when there wouldn’t be a scrap of food in the house, and Neil had knocked him around for going to the neighbors and asking for a snack, shouting about child services and if he _wanted_ to be molested in a foster home?! 

He’d been ten at the time.

But Billy’s always been a fast learner. Eat whenever food’s available, take what you can’t eat, hide it for later, and _dig_ if you have to. He looks around the room, emptied of all other people besides Jason, who’s picking at what’s left on a plate in the corner. 

“Don’t leave anything behind,” he says before making his way to the trash bin. 

“What are you-”

“These fucks always throw half their food away,” he says into the bin, fingers sifting through empty milk cartons and wadded up napkins. He finds a couple more half eaten sausages and a glob of oatmeal congealing on the side of a milk carton. There are pieces of egg stuck here and there but nothing substantial enough to be worth the effort. He stands up, away from the over-ripe stench of the garbage, and shoves the found food in his mouth. 

“That’s fuckin’ gross.”

“Yeah,” he wipes the back of his hand across his face and moves away from the trash bin, “well maybe tomorrow morning you’ll hurry the fuck up so we don’t have to go dumpster diving to make it through the day.” 

“I’m not doing that.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he says as he heads for the door, but stalls as the knob turns and it opens, revealing the bald CO that had broken up their first fight. The man pauses for a moment, then grins unkindly as he glances from Jason to Billy. 

“Well, you’re both still alive, ain’t that somethin’? Filthy’as fuck, though,” he tuts, sucking on his teeth and nodding at Billy’s pants. “Can’t have you disgracing this fine establishment that way. So, how about today y’all do what you’re best at, and take out the trash.” Billy’s eyes sear into the older man as he stomps back to the bin, tying and hauling the black garbage bag out and walking steadily toward the door.

“Ah- I wasn’t finished,” The CO says, grabbing Billy’s shoulder, and if he hadn’t had his hands full of garbage he would have decked the guy. “No wheelbarrow today. Now get moving.” And with a hard push he sends Billy toward the door. He stumbles forward, almost losing his footing and face-planting it off the steps, but steadies himself just in time, heart beating so loud he can feel it in his ears. 

Jason skitters out behind him, eyes wide but mouth set in a way that Billy knows means he wants to deck the guy, too. And it’s surprisingly nice, to suddenly feel like he’s got a partner in all this. Even if he is a total dumbass.

“C’mon,” he says, slinging the bag over his shoulder, “if we haul ass we might be done before lunch is over.”

+++++

Turns out the camp/compound/fuckin’ _prison_ uses the shittiest trash bags known to man. Four of the twenty they have to deal with break on their way to the dump station, creating more work for them to clean up.

By the time they get back to the mess hall there’s no one around. All the trays have been put up, and a newly filled trash bag awaits. Billy curses to the sky before shoving his hands into the garbage, finding half a hot dog in a balled up napkin, some over-boiled broccoli, another few bites of hot dog. 

“Shit! They can’t _do_ this, can they?” Jason asks from where he’s pacing across the room, looking in vain for something to eat that’s not out of the garbage bin. Billy shrugs, shoving some stale bread into his mouth.

“They can do whatever the fuck they want. Better dig in, pretty boy,” Jason rolls his eyes and shoots a glare at Billy.

“I look just like _you_.”

“Yeah, and I’m _fuckin’ pretty_ ,” he says, throwing a piece of hotdog bun at his doppleganger. Jason avoids it, making Billy roll his own eyes before stomping over and picking it up from the floor, putting on a big production of blowing it off before popping it into his mouth. “Better get over yourself, pretty boy,” he says between chews, “or you’re gonna be passing out before 5.”

“I’ll be fine. Just gotta make it to dinner.”

+++++

They don’t make it to dinner. 

Even the trash bags are gone by the time they’re released from their afternoon work duty of doing all the camp’s laundry- likely a jab at their dirty pants.

“Fucking _fuck!_ ” Jason yells, slamming his palm against the locked door to the mess hall. Billy wants to jab at him, say _’I told you so,’_ but the guy really doesn’t look good. His face is peaked, with heavy sweat gathering at the hairline and along his upper lip, a light tremor in his hands as they curl against the door frame.

Billy knows the human body can technically go without food for weeks, up to a month even, but that doesn’t mean it ever _should_ , and not in this heat or while being made to run back and forth across a compound. 

“Hey, c’mon, let’s head back. We’ll get something in the morning,” he says, tone uncharacteristically soft. Jason nods, and Billy can see he’s actively fighting back tears of frustration as they back away from the building and head towards the woods. Billy makes a mental note as they pass the shower house to bring some clothes to change into tomorrow morning. If they’re first in the mess hall they can hit the showers and be in fresh clothes before the COs even register they’re there. 

They’re about three quarters of the way to the cabin when Billy realizes he’d been thinking _they_ rather than just _I_. Jesus, one day stuck with the guy and Billy’s already adopted this bizzaro version of himself. 

He’s about to make a slam on Jason, make it _really_ obvious he still doesn’t care for the guy, and turns just in time to see Jason’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his boots slip on the dead leaves, sending him straight to the ground.

“Oh you gotta be fuckin’ _kidding_ me...” Billy groans, and actually checks around the woods before bending down and hauling him back up to his feet. “Next time you better goddamn well listen to me you fuckin’ stuck up piece of shit,” he grumbles, positioning Jason’s arm around his own shoulders as he hangs onto his waist, walk-dragging him the rest of the way to their shitty little barrack. 

 

When Jason comes to he’s lying on his cot of a bed, boots off, and half of a Big Hunk candy bar sitting on his chest. He turns to say thanks but Billy’s already fast asleep across the room.

He says it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there's still no Steve, but I promise we're getting to him!!! Also sorry if I'm like WAY off on how a body reacts to no food for 24 hours + heat + over exertion, there's only so much googling I can do before shouting fuck it, I just want to get to the next part~
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	5. Mail Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A truce, an ally, a letter, a connection, and a plan

The next morning Billy wakes Jason up before the sun rises, shoving some clean clothes at him, telling him to put them in his bag and bring them with, don’t bother changing. After the events of the other day Jason is quick to listen, grabbing his own clothes and shoving them in his backpack before following Billy out the door. 

They get to the showers before anyone else is up and moving, and are cleaned up and changed before the first cadets start to show up. Billy motions for Jason to follow him, and leads them to the laundry facilities. They drop off their soiled clothes and pilfer another set of fresh shirts and pants, as well as snagging some bedding that, with a lot of pushing and tugging, they’re able to shove into the backpack as well. Jason stows the pack at the edge of the forest before running back and getting in line for mess hall; just another in a sea of white shirts and khaki pants. 

The anonymity doesn’t last long - the COs seem to be on a special mission to spot out ‘the clones,’ as they’ve been calling them, and give them the dirtiest, least desirable jobs at the camp. And at night they likely get together and congratulate themselves on reforming young men through hard work and discipline and abject humiliation, but they forget one thing.

Billy Hargrove is a _fast_ learner. 

He quickly figures out which areas of the compound are empty at what times, how to get around without being seen, how to cut corners on the worst of the jobs. And Jason is right there with him. Turns out the kid’s not as goody-two-shoes as Billy’d thought. Still prissy as fuck, though. 

But he has to give him his props. It was Jason who had found and pocketed the lighter during one of their rounds in the laundry room, tossing it to Billy as they’d been walking back to the cabin. A peace offering, maybe repayment for the candy bar, Billy couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he had eleven cigarettes to get him through the rest of the summer, and tomorrow he’d have ten. 

He’s on number eight, leaning against the utility shed on the outskirts of the compound, when he hears the rumble of a vehicle coming up the dirt path. He tucks further into the side of the building, glaring at his shoes, wondering what caused a disruption in his carefully pieced together schedule of the camp curators’ movements. As it gets closer he realizes it’s not the telltale sound of one of the jeeps the COs are normally driving around, but rather belongs to something older, bigger. He breathes out a plume of smoke, watching the cloud hover and dissipate into the air, and doesn’t get nervous until he hears the rumbling squeak to a stop just on the other side of the building, way too close for comfort. He tries to calm the rapid beating of his heart by reminding himself that he can’t be seen from the road, and there’s no reason anyone would think someone was hiding back here. Unless… 

“ _Well ho-_ lee _shit, Billy Hargrove, right?_ ” The voice is followed by the slam of a car door, and Billy is going to _kill_ Jason. 

“ _Oh, uh-_ ” He hears the other boy mutter out, likely flustered both at getting caught sneaking around the compound (even though Billy _told_ him to always use the back paths, especially this close to the main gate), and at being called _Billy_. 

“ _Shit kid, thought they kicked you out._ ”

“ _Huh?_ ” Jason says exactly as Billy twitches up his eyebrows in confusion, leaning forward in an effort to hear better. 

“ _S’what they told me. That you’d been given the boot, and I should just toss this_ ,” there’s a moment of quiet, and Billy can only assume the other guy is looking around for something. He’s validated when he hears a car door squeak and slam shut. Billy flicks the ash from his cigarette, hands itching to get at whatever it is that’s been handed over. He’s never liked other people touching his things. 

“ _Thanks, wow, yeah thanks, man. Oh, hey, you wouldn’t- d’you have anything for a Jason Scott?_ ” Billy rolls his eyes and takes another drag. 

“ _I dunno, have to go back to the distribution center and check. But I’ll keep an eye out. You friends with him? He in the same trouble you in?_ ”

“ _Uh... yeah, guess- guess you could say that._ ”

“ _Well I don’t want to hear about it, but... if you can meet me here on Friday, I’ll check._ ”

“ _Yeah, sure, thanks!_ ”

Billy counts to ten in his head, waiting for the sounds of tires against gravel and hoping to god Jason isn’t stupid enough to come running back there while someone could be watching. It’s a whole 30 seconds before the guy slinks around the corner. He’s got a lime green envelope in his hands, like something a birthday card would be sent in. But, Billy’s birthday was back in April, and who the fuck would be sending him a card, anyway? 

“Who knew you had friends on the inside _and_ the outside,” Jason grins as he hands over the envelope. Billy snatches it out of his hands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and stubbing it out with his boot. He kicks the butt into the corner of the building where it’s less likely to be noticed as he flips the envelope over and recognizes the childish handwriting on the front. He’s amazed Maxine was able to get the address from Neil; that Neil would even know it. Hell, he probably didn’t. Max is a resourceful little shit, she’d likely figured it out on her own. 

“So who’s it from?”

“None of your damn business.”

“C’mon man, I’m bored as shit. Almost totally forgot there was anyone left on the earth. Like, did Reagan drop the bomb, or what?” 

“Shut up, it’s from my step-sister, probably just complaining about her mom’s cooking and that I’m not around to drive her everywhere.” He folds it up and slips it into his back pocket, heart beating abnormally fast as he thinks about everything that _could_ be in there. But, as long as he doesn’t read it, it’s not happening, and not his problem.

“You’re seriously not gonna read it?”

“I _said_ shut up about it,” Billy responds, sliding his hat back on, “C’mon, let’s finish up with this shit. Don’t want to be late for mess again.” 

+++++

 

Billy waits until Jason’s breathing turns deep and steady from across the room before he slides out of his own bed, grabbing the letter from his discarded pants and slinking outside. The moon is big and bright, just enough to read by so long as he squints and Max wrote big enough. His fingers itch for another cigarette as he starts tearing into the envelope, which she probably nicked from the card stand at the general store down the road from their house.

 _Susan’s_ house. 

He chews absentmindedly on his bottom lip as he reads about the new skateboard trick she learned and the sick scar she got on her knee from learning said skateboard trick. How Lorraine from the library asked where he was, said she would save the new Stephen King book for him. Max says she told her he was at Bible camp, with no less than four exclamation points. Billy rolls his eyes but can’t keep the grin from his face. There’s some stuff about her mom, not much about Neil, which Billy will take as a big positive, and the letter ends with her reminding him that he promised to take her to the record store in San Francisco when he gets back. He breathes a sigh of relief, scans the letter one more time to check for anything weird, before folding it back up and slipping back into the cabin. He shoves it deep into his duffle before climbing into bed, the squeak of the springs deafening in the quiet of the room. 

+++++

Billy’s anxiously keeping lookout as Jason waits at the side of the utility shed. They’re off schedule, playing with fire as they hang around the opposite side of the compound from where they should be, cleaning out the bathrooms on the eastern wall. He whistles sharply as he sees a jeep come barreling around the corner, ducking clean out of sight and praying Jason does the same. He’s once again caught with the question of _why am I doing this?_ Why is he putting _himself_ at risk to help a guy who’s been a pain in the ass more than not, to get a package that _probably_ doesn’t even exist, when there’s literally nothing in it for him. He thinks about leaving, even takes a few steps, but doubles back, snarling silently at himself. 

The sun is shifting in the sky, and Billy just knows they’re going to catch hell for ditching their bathroom cleaning duties. He’s about to call it when he hears the whining of shitty brakes and worse tires making their way up the road. He gives out a sharp whistle and once again ducks away, but not so far that he can’t keep the road in his view. His skin prickles with anxiety as the straining sounds of the vehicle get louder and louder until an ancient looking conversion van rolls past, slowing to a stop just past where he’s hiding. The squeak of the door hinges is quickly followed by a slam, and then the * _pat, pat_ * of footsteps making their way across the dusty ground. Billy bites back a groan as he realizes the footfalls are getting _louder_ , and leans his forehead against the crooked panels of the shed for a few seconds before standing. Better to meet inevitability head on.

“Thought I saw you hiding back there,” a voice calls out from just around the corner. Billy steels himself before crossing the threshold and coming face to face with his old pal, Collins. He bites back a grin, remembering he’s playing Jason playing him, and Jason had no reaction to Collins last time, so Billy can’t this time, either. _Stupid._

“Yeah,” he shrugs, going for complete nonchalance, “looks like I need to work on keeping my cover. You got something for me?” Collins rolls his eyes at his bluntness but grins nonetheless. 

“Well I got something for _Jason_ , couple somethings, actually. Surprised the guys didn’t get into ‘em before now.” He walks backwards to the van, tugging the back door open with a hard yank and pulling out two smallish packages and a stack of envelopes. 

“Popular kid,” Collins says, handing the pile to Billy, who wrinkles his nose, gut churning with jealousy. 

“Yeah, he’s a real prince,” he grimaces down at the items in his hands before looking up, “Thanks, Collins.”

“Oh, so you _do_ remember me. Thought maybe I didn’t leave much of an impression.” Billy weighs his options of responses in his head for a few seconds before shrugging casually.

“Nah, I just happened to be particularly dumb that day. You know how people can be.” Collins gives him a look like he _doesn’t_ know, but still nods slowly in return.

“Sure, sure,” he takes a long breath and stretches his back, “Welp, I guess just make sure no one sees ya with that shit, and if they do, I didn’t give it to ya.”

“Course not. See you round,” Billy salutes with the hand holding all of the envelopes. 

“Better not,” Collins says, grinning as he heads back to the driver’s side. Billy watches him rumble off, dust kicking up and obscuring the air around the van. Before it’s totally out of view Jason scrambles out from the other side of the building, eyes huge, and if Billy’s hands weren’t full he’d slug him. 

He drops everything to the ground and slugs him anyway. 

+++++

“So what’d you get?” Jason looks up from where he’s been leaning against his bed, two boxes and about half a dozen envelopes opened and scattered around his outstretched legs. His cheek is still a little red where he’d taken the hit from Billy’s fist earlier, but nothing that will bruise too badly. 

Still, Billy feels a pang of remorse, seeing the splotch of red and the angry scrape on his arm from where he’d fallen against the gravel. The kid _seriously_ needs to learn how to take a hit. 

He’s fully expecting Jason to tell him to fuck off or just ignore him completely when he sees an arm extend over the bed, an Oreo cookie held gingerly between his fingers. Billy takes the proffered peace-offering, even though he’s pretty sure _he_ should be the one offering it. But, he’s never been one to turn down a free cookie. 

“Thanks, man,” he says before twisting the two sides apart and swiping the flat of his tongue across the cream in the middle before shoving both pieces into his mouth. The chocolate and sugar hit him in a burst, scratching an itch he didn’t even realize was there. 

“ _Fuck_ that’s _good_. How many more of those you got?”

“Back off, Hargrove, you’re lucky you got _one_ ,” Jason responds, but there’s a lilt to his voice, so Billy wanders closer, trying to scope out the new snacking situation: an opened bag of Oreos, a jar of peanut butter, a baggie with what looks to be _more_ cookies, M &Ms, a box of Good n’ Plenty… 

And even with this veritable buffet of delicacies before him, Jason’s eyes are trained down on something in his hands, resting against his knees. 

“What’s that?” Billy asks on instinct, picking at the chocolate stuck in his teeth. 

“Just some pictures my parents sent. I know it’s lame, but I’ve never been away from home this long before.” Without being asked he hands the stack to Billy, who wipes his hands on his pants quick and settles next to him, head leaning against the edge of the mattress.

“That’s my mom and dad,” Jason says of the first photo showing a man and woman smiling in front of a fancy looking building. Billy feels a flash of resentment but easily flips to the next picture, where he sees Jason with slightly longer hair, arms wrapped around a petite brunette. “That’s my girl, Kim. Well,” he pauses, rubbing at his chin, “I think she’s still my girl... we haven’t really talked since I got here. She was pretty pissed.”

“What happened?” Billy asks, resting the stack of photos against the tips of his fingers, careful not to smudge them with his thumbs. 

“Just a dumbass prank gone bad, and me in the wrong place at the wrong time. But, I wouldn’t give up anybody else, so they tossed me here. Figured it would give me something to think about for the next year, I guess.”

“Huh, and this Kim, she not into bad boys?” Jason laughs and reaches for the photo, bringing it up to his face.

“Yeah, guess not. Thought that was supposed to be a huge draw for ‘em though, right? I mean, you must get all the girls, back in Cali.” 

Billy shifts, initially going for the cocky, nonchalant shoulder shrug and smug grin, but drops the act about half way. 

“I do all right,” he says instead, which isn’t necessarily a _lie_ , per se, but is definitely a far cry from the whole truth. The truth that, yeah, he has girls from school and random soccer moms and even those sophisticated older women you find at shopping malls hitting on him left right and center, but he doesn’t ever do much with them but flirt back a little to feed his ego. 

And keep his cover.

He glances back down at the photos, at Jason and Kim and two other couples about to head to what he can only assume to be prom or homecoming, everyone in their fancy get-up, standing in front of a limo. He snorts a little at the fact that each guy has a small, dark-haired girl on his arm, like they just picked ‘em up from the factory. 

“What?” Jason asks, leaning over to see what could have caused that kind of reaction. Billy holds up the picture. 

“Nothing, just seems all’s well in Stepford.” Jason looks at him quizzically, and Billy just shakes his head and flips to the next picture. This one is just of the guys, still in their tuxes, arms around each other in a way that’s foreign to Billy. Growing up he’d hung around with lots of people, was the life of the party, but never really had _friends_. Never even been to a sleepover. A knot forms in his stomach as he looks over the picture once more before slipping it to the back of the pile. 

His heart stops when he sees the next photo. It’s older, way older than all the others, discolored and faded with ragged edges and a couple of creases around the corners. Billy’s hands shake as he brings the whole stack closer to his face, eyes searching for anything that will prove this isn’t who he thinks it is. Who he _knows_ it is.

“Dude, you okay?” Billy’s head shoots up, eyes wide as he stumbles to his feet and shoves the pictures back at Jason.

“The _fuck’re_ you doing, huh?” 

“What?”

“Why the _fuck_ do you have that picture? _How_ do you have _that picture_?” Jason looks down at the photo on the top of the pile, blue eyes wide.

“It’s, it’s my mom-” Billy shakes his head, backing away, then walking back, pointing a damning finger at the boy still on the ground.

“No, no. You- that first picture, _you said_ -”

“That- she’s really my aunt, but she and my Uncle Lyle raised me since I was a baby, since my mom and dad died-” Billy stops his incessant pacing, eyes snapping over to stare at Jason.

“What’d you say?”

“I mean, I call them ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ ‘cause that’s what they are to me, but really-” Billy cuts him off with a laugh, deep from his throat, no joy in it at all.

“Your dad’s not _fucking_ dead.” Now it’s Jason’s turn to stand up, arms crossed in front of his chest in a defensive pose, fingers curled protectively over the pictures. 

“How would _you_ know?”

“I know ‘cause _he’s the prick that sent me here_!”

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” Billy stalks over to his bed, mattress flying off as he flips the whole frame over and grabs the duffle that had been underneath. His fingers shake as they work open the small zipped pocket on the side, but steady enough to pull at the delicate chain from within, pendant swinging out last. Despite his better judgement he unclasps the locket portion and flings the necklace at Jason, watching as the silver sails through the air and lands on his open palms, almost like it was guided there. He brings the open locket to his face, eyes widening at the miniaturized photo of the one in his pile of pictures. 

“At least we know why we look alike now, _brother_.”

+++++

Billy is _shocked_ to find how much better he takes this news than Jason. But he guesses, while he thinks he for sure got the short straw, at least he knew his father was _alive_. Jason crises so badly Billy ends up leaving him alone in the cabin, acting as both of them to pass off that they were both working that day. He shows up late at the cabin, exhausted but carrying some extra food he’d stuffed away at dinner. Jason accepts it, chewing in almost a catatonic state. 

 

“I need to meet him.” Billy jerks at the noise, looking up from where he’d been dicking around with the radio, to see Jason sitting up on his bed, mouth set in a determined line. “We need to switch places.”

“The fuck’re you talking about? The man is a _dick_. He gave you up without a second thought, and worse, he _kept_ me. God, I woulda _loved_ to grow up in a nice house, with nice people.” Billy didn’t let himself think about the idea that maybe it was _Aunt Judy_ that didn’t want him. That Neil had offered up twins but she only wanted the one. And who wouldn’t want Jason? All of Billy’s good looks with none of the attitude. 

“Billy, he’s my _father_ , I thought he was _dead_. I _need_ to meet him!” And Billy thinks, yeah, maybe if he’d been in Jason’s shoes, he would feel the same. If someone had suddenly pointed out his mom was still alive and kicking it in Reno no force on Earth would be able to stop him from seeking her out. But his mom, from what vague baby memories he has, had been kind, gentle. Neil was decidedly _not_. But fuck if Billy didn’t know what the set of that chin meant. He’d seen it on his own face enough times.

“Fine. But you’re gonna have to learn how to take a punch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _swear_ we're getting closer to the part you all are dying for me to get to. Believe me, I'm as anxious for it as you guys are!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading/kudos'ing/commenting! Y'all are gems!


	6. Hawkins, Indiana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and Jason make a plan. 
> 
> Billy flies on a plane. 
> 
> Billy meets someone special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of backflashes at the beginning. Please bear with me.

Billy almost calls the whole thing off three times. 

First, when he was given a stack of pictures and was told, _“these are the people you’ll see pretty much every day, so you’ll need to know all about them.”_

Second, when he found out Jason’s favorite band is Styx, and he has at least three of their tapes in his backpack at all times. 

_”Seriously, just_ listen _to_ Grand Illusion _and_ tell me _they’re not the greatest band on earth.”_

 _“They’re_ not _the greatest band on earth. For fuck’s sake...”_

And third, when the return plane ticket had been pressed to his palm.

_”They got me a window seat, so I hope you don’t have to pee a lot.”_

Billy flexes his hands, fingernails scratching against the padded armrests, as he watches people file through the plane, sliding into rows to take their seats, shifting slightly to let others pass. He fully reads through the safety card and takes stock of the little paper bag in the seat pocket in front of him, and _really_ hopes he won’t have to use either of them. 

A shock of red hair moves into the row of seats just ahead, and Billy can’t help but think of Max. Wonders if he made the right decision, if he should have told her. He couldn’t run the risk of her blabbing to her mom, though, and they hadn’t made it to the point in their unconventional sibling-ship to know if she could keep a secret. 

So instead he’d shown Jason the letters she’d sent over the summer, explained the handful of inside jokes they shared, the couple of outings they’d been forced to go on together - the zoo, the fair, real family-friendly events Neil had been trying to force them to fit into. It never worked. 

_”If she starts talkin’ and you don’t know what she’s saying or how to react, just roll your eyes and kinda, you know, slouch away,” Billy had explained, showing off his signature move. Jason just grinned._

_“Yeah, I’ve been watching you do that at me all summer, I think I got it.”_

He figures if anyone sees through their charade it’ll be Maxine. Well, anyone from _his_ life, anyway. He glances at the edge of the cheat-sheet he’d written himself, tucked haphazardly into his book. Jason’s got about five to ten people that can potentially out Billy at any time. 

His parents, Lyle and Judy, his girl Kim, best friends Tommy and Steve, and to a lesser degree their girlfriends, Nancy and Carol. Or Carol and Nancy. Billy could never be too sure which girl belonged with which guy, pretty sure it didn’t really matter. He’s using most of his skills to remember that Tommy’s the one with the intense concentration of freckles, where Steve’s are more random, one here, one there. 

_”Steve’s kind of_ chairman of the board _, if you know what I mean.”_ Billy didn’t. 

Apparently Jason, Steve, and Tommy have been thick as thieves since they were in kindergarten. Steve had all the best toys, the best clothes, the best parties. 

Billy already hated the kid. 

_”He’s a good guy. Reliable alibi for when Kim and I would wanna get away. Uh, speaking of-“_

_“I’m not gonna fuck your girl, Scott. Calm down.”_

_“No, it’s not that, well, I mean it’s_ kind of _that. Me’n Kim, we were getting pretty, uh,_ intense _, before I got sent here. So like, do what you need to to keep her interested, I guess, but try not to, like, fall in love with her or anything.”_

_“Yeah, not gonna be a problem.”_

_“Well I mean you haven’t met her yet, so-“_

_“Jason, it’s_ not _gonna be a problem. I’ll kiss ‘er up real good if you need, but you’ve got_ nothing _to worry about.”_

_“Thanks, I guess. What about you? Anyone waiting for you back home?” Billy stubs out his second to last cigarette._

_“Not a fucking one.”_

+++++

The plane lurches, and Billy grips at the armrests, elbows jutting a little into the old lady next to him. 

“Nervous, dear?” She asks, and it throws Billy for a second, before remembering what he looks like: Jason’s jeans without any rips, Jason’s plain, clean tee shirt, his hair a respectable length, and no earring in sight. The only thing of his he’d kept with him was the necklace. Jason had tried to make an argument for it, but Billy wouldn’t budge. 

_“Ain’t nobody pay close enough attention to notice I ever had it in the first place. And_ if _they ask, say it got lost.” He’s burning the tip of the needle he’d swiped from the infirmary. “Now hold still,” he tucks an apple behind Jason’s left earlobe, “this’ll sting for just a second.”_

“Just, haven’t flown in a while, is all,” he says, loosening his death grip on the armrests before clutching at them again when the plane goes through a spot of turbulence. The old woman pats his arm gingerly. 

“It’s the safest way to travel. Just try to close your eyes, we’ll be there before you know it.” 

Billy knows that isn’t true, knows he’ll feel every bump and stutter the aircraft goes through, but closes his eyes anyway, leaning his head back against the uncomfortable headrest. His thoughts immediately go to Jason, and the two-day bus trip he’s just starting. How Neil will be waiting for him at the bus depot in San Francisco, already annoyed that he has to go into the city to pick up his no-good son. He hopes he taught Jason enough. 

_”He’ll probably give you some taps when you get there, make sure you- or I guess_ I _, still know he’s in charge.”_

_“What do you mean, taps?”_

_“You know, like,” he’d pushed his fingers forcefully against Jason’s temple, “not enough to do anything, but annoying enough that I could snap, which means he could snap back. Hard.”_

_“Fuck... you grew up like this?”_

_“Yeah, you still want to go through with it?”_

_Jason had been quiet for a moment, then, looking contemplatively at his hands, fingers curling in and out of fists, before falling to his sides, balled up._

_“Yeah. Fuck, teach me how to take a hit.”_

+++++

 

He wakes with a start, whole body twitching and snapping to attention, sure something had gone wrong and they were now hurtling towards the ground. 

“Looks like you made it, dear,” the woman’s wizened old face crinkles at the corners as she smiles up at him. He looks out the window and is surprised to see shorn grass and asphalt rolling by, cranes his neck to see a huge building ahead of them.

“Shit, you were right,” Billy breathes out, fogging up the window. The plane lumbers forward, stopping and starting again in jerks, knocking his forehead against the glass. He leans back into the seat, and remembers very suddenly what’s waiting for him at the gate. His fingers itch to go through the stack of photos again, read through his notes one more time, even though he’s committed every word to memory. 

There’s a ding and the seatbelt light flickers off. Billy pulls his book from the seatback pouch, having been too nervous to read it, and runs his thumb over the raggedy edge of his cheatsheet before slipping them into his bag. _Jason’s_ bag. 

Fuck, there’s no way this is gonna work. 

+++++

 

Pictures never really match the real thing. 

Going from a flat, two dimensional image, frozen in one moment of time, to a real, breathing person, ever changing from second to second… there’s no comparing the two. 

And if Judy hadn’t shouted “ _Jason!_ ” at him the second he walked off the ramp into the gate’s sitting area, he likely would have breezed right past her, looking only for the face on the photo, not the woman she represented. 

“Hey- hi, Mom,” he adjusts, trying to remember how Jason said he should greet Judy. Big smile, big hug, call her _mom_ , ask how they’ve been, let her know he got the care packages… 

She pats his face affectionately, rubbing a thumb over his right cheekbone. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you somehow got even more handsome.” Billy’s face heats at that, and he has to bite back a laugh. It’s probably just a line parents say to their kids when they’ve been gone for awhile, but all Billy hears is _you’re more handsome than Jason_. 

“Apparently a little discipline does me good,” he says, flexing his arms. Judy smacks him good-naturedly in the chest before hiking her purse strap back up to her shoulder. 

“Well, come on, your father’s in the car. Steve and Tommy wanted to come get you, but we wanted tonight to just be family. You don’t mind, do you?”

Billy’s head is swimming with the idea that this is what life could have been. Family time as a loving request not a demand laced with threats. 

“No, no, that sounds good. Sounds great.” He thinks back to what Jason had told him about his favorite foods, favored meals, “Dad gonna fire up the grill?”

“We were thinking about saving that for this weekend, the Harrington’s big end-of-the-summer barbecue. Thought we could get Ethiopian tonight.” Billy wraps an arm around her slight shoulders and forces a grin, having no idea what the hell she was talking about. 

“Sure, sounds great.”

+++++

Billy excuses himself quickly from dinner and spends the rest of the evening in the bathroom, wiping his sweaty brow with a washcloth and wondering what the hell he’d just eaten. When asked what he wanted he’d just told Judy, _”oh, you know, the usual,”_ hoping to god Jason had some sense of taste and self preservation. Apparently he’d hoped too high. 

“I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch,” he growls, before realizing he’d just called his mother a bitch, and does a quick sign of the cross and a kiss to his necklace before grimacing as his stomach roils again. 

_”Stomach probably got too used to that prison food, can’t digest real meats anymore,”_ he hears Lyle say, voice muffled by the closed door. 

_“Oh hush, he wasn’t in prison. Jason honey, you okay in there?”_ And Billy’s shocked, but in this moment he would give anything for Neil’s dismissive attitude. 

“Yeah, yeah, fine, just, uh,” he grimaces as his stomach clenches again, “just working its way through. Probably a bug I picked up on the plane.”

 _“Yes, yes, that’s probably... I’ll leave some alka seltzer in your nightstand, you should probably just get some rest tonight.”_ Billy nods even though he knows she can’t see him. 

“Yeah, yeah, I should- I’ll be fine in the morning.” 

_“I’m sure. Good night, dear, we’re SO happy to have you back.”_

“Happy to be back,” Billy grunts out just before another wave of nausea hits him and he leans into the toilet. 

In spite of his entire guts trying to exit his body from both ends, he’s almost grateful for the excuse to escape. Lyle had started asking about the juvie camp, what they had him doing, if he made any friends, and Billy had panicked. All he could think about was Neil asking him those kinds of questions, waiting for him to slip up, say the wrong thing, and backhanding him for having a _smart mouth_. 

“He’s not gonna hit you,” Billy says quietly into the toilet bowl, eyes closed as sweat trickles down his temple. He thinks about Jason, probably about halfway to San Francisco, eating stale gas station snacks and holding his piss for hours. Hopefully he’s still alive. Billy groans as he rests his forehead against the toilet seat, too tired to be grossed out, head swimming with everything he’d tried to teach Jason their last week. Too much and nowhere near enough. He never should have agreed to this. 

Eventually his stomach calms enough that he’s able to stand in front of the sink and splash cold water on his face, rinse his mouth out a few times, first with water, then with the Scope he finds in the cabinet. He eases his way down the hall and into Jason’s room, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

The bedroom is at least twice the size of his back home, with a queen size bed instead of a twin. “That fucker’s in for a rude awakening,” he mumbles, picking up the backpack where he’d thrown it haphazardly on the floor earlier, when Judy’d called him downstairs for dinner. He sets it on the bed and gingerly crawls up after it, lying on the covers, propping himself up against the headboard, slowly taking in the room. There’s some baseball and football trophies on a shelf, a large mirror attached to the dresser, a handful of posters tacked up on the walls - a red lamborghini, a football player he doesn’t know, Christie Brinkley in a swimsuit… what a cliche. Billy rolls his eyes and pulls his book out of the bag, flipping it open to his bookmarked page. The photo of him and Max is stuck staunchly into the binding, staring back at him. He looks at it for a moment before closing the book once more and settling onto the mattress, head resting on the pillow, and eventually shuts his eyes. 

 

******

He wakes up on top of the covers with his clothes still on and a nasty taste in his mouth. The digital clock on the nightstand is glowing 10:14 at him, and he jerks up, heart leaping into his throat before he remembers where he is, and that Neil isn’t there to beat the door down and demand to know how in the hell he can sleep so late. 

He jumps at the sound of a fist slamming repeatedly against the door, heart immediately at a 200 bpm. 

_“Hey man, are ya decent?”_ Billy tries to remember what Lyle’s voice sounded like last night, because there’s no way this is him. _“Whatever I’m coming in.”_ The doorknob rattles for a second before it flies open, revealing a silhouetted figure in the doorway. 

“Jason!” The figure shouts before running and leaping onto the bed with him, veritably tackling him into the soft sheets. Billy silently wishes away his morning boner, made all the worse by the feeling of a strong male body pushing up against him, as large hands continue to poke and tug at various parts of his body. “Fuckin’ missed you, dude.”

“Uh, same, man,” Billy stutters out, still not entirely sure who he he’s being pinned by. He blindly reaches his right hand out and smacks at his nightstand until he connects with the lamp, and almost swallows his tongue when the light comes on. 

He’s being straddled by _the_ most beautiful boy he’s _ever_ seen. 

Holy _shit_ , was Jason fucking this dude on the side? Maybe they had more in common than Billy thought. 

“Shit, you got huge!” Billy’s about to look down at his crotch when he realizes the guy is talking about his biceps, using two hands to wrap around it, fingers just barely touching. “Maybe I should get tossed in juvie next summer, damn!” 

“How bout I just train you instead?” What the hell is he saying? He doesn’t _train_ people. And has no idea if there’s anything in this place to train with. The drive through town yesterday seemed pretty sparse. 

“Yeah?” The guy’s brown eyes shine, face somehow breaking out into an even bigger grin, “Man, that’d be awesome. Get all beefed up for homecoming. Shit, Kim is gonna _flip_ when she sees you.”

Kim? Who’s Ki-

Everything comes rushing back to him, the pictures, the stories, Kim, Jason’s semi-estranged girlfriend, and Steve Harrington, his best friend. 

Pictures _never_ really match the real thing.


	7. Steve Harrington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy meets Steve Harrington.
> 
> Steve Harrington doesn't know it, but he's meeting Billy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s been some very light editing of Ch 6 to match continuity of Ch 7, ie - Styx cassettes are in Jason’s backpack, and the BBQ is thrown by the Harringtons and happening “this weekend”. So super inconsequential, I just wanted to match my own story~

Billy leans with his forehead pressed to the door of the bathroom, listening to the sounds of Steve talking with Judy and Lyle downstairs in the kitchen. 

In the pictures Steve had been a weedy kid with a goofy-looking smile, unfortunate hair, and a nose too big for his face. Billy hadn’t even glanced at him twice.

Now? Billy presses his head harder into the wood. Now, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He and Jason never talked about this kind of scenario. Never dreamed of it even being a possibility. And why would they? Billy’s only goal in Hawkins is to stay on the straight and narrow until Jason has had his fill of Neil Hargrove’s bullshit and begs him to switch back. Which is likely to be any day now. 

No use in getting comfortable.

He exits the bathroom ten minutes later, freshly scrubbed, hair still damp, and a resolve to be the dullest Jason Scott imaginable. No waves, no issues. 

Steve’s sitting at the kitchen counter, half a muffin in his hand, sunlight streaming through the skylight windows as Lyle and Judy chat amicably with him from the other side, and Billy’s gut churns. With want, with jealousy, with the fact that this was never going to be _his_. 

“Good morning, take it you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in awhile!” Lyle says as he pours a cup of coffee and begins to doctor it up with cream and sugar.

“Yeah,” Billy says, forcing a smile as he stretches his arms over his head, a little disappointed Steve’s eyes don’t follow the tug of his shirt, “those cots were cruel and unusual punishment.” A phrase Jason would spout pretty much every other morning. God what a nerd. 

“I bet,” he passes the mug to Billy, who tries to tamp down his surprise as he accepts it, “well we’re glad you’re home, son, and hope that from here on out you’ll be on the straight and narrow, hmm?” 

“Yes sir,” he says without thinking, the response ingrained in him from years of scolds and reprimands. Lyle just laughs and shakes his head a little.

“You’re not at military camp anymore, bud, just ‘dad’ is fine.” 

“Sure... Dad, uh,” Billy shoots a quick look at Steve, who grins at him, mouth full of muffin, “Steve was gonna run me over to the record store, see what I missed this summer. That okay?”

“Of course, honey,” Judy says, glancing quickly at her husband before smiling at the boys. “In fact, here,” she pulls her purse over to her and fishes out her wallet, “lunch is on us.” She hands him a crisp twenty, which he stares at for about five seconds before taking it. 

“Thanks, Mom,” the words sound foreign in his mouth, clumsy, like he’s not sure he’s saying them right. He slips the bill into his pocket before taking a gulp of the almost forgotten coffee in his left hand, cringing a little at the sweetness. 

“Too hot?” Lyle asks, but Billy shakes his head.

“Nah, just, uh, forgot how I liked it. No coffee at camp, you know?” Lyle nods as Judy purses her lips, head tilting slightly. Billy gulps down the rest of the coffee, rinses the mug out in the sink, and pats his hip for his keys before remembering, oh right, _Jason doesn’t have a car_. 

“Ready man?” Steve asks, wiping the crumbs from his mouth and clapping Billy on the shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s- thanks, I’ll see you guys tonight.” Billy says, throwing a quick wave towards Lyle and Judy. 

“Dinner’s at six,” Lyle says as he reaches over and grabs Steve’s plate from the other side of the counter. Judy smiles, but there’s something in her eyes that makes Billy think it’s all over. He’s about ready to confess everything to her when Steve grabs his bicep and tugs. 

“I’ll have him back by then. Thanks for the breakfast, Mrs. Scott!”

“Sure thing, you boys have fun!” She calls out, eyes still on Billy. He smiles and nods and hurries to keep up with Steve, and escape her calculating gaze. 

They get out to the driveway where a burgundy BMW is sparkling in the sunlight, and yeah, Jason did say that Steve had the best toys growing up. Seems that trend has continued. 

“Dude, I know I say it all the time, but I love your parents,” Steve says as he opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, yeah they’re pretty great, huh?” Billy’s going to get an ulcer the way his gut keeps churning. This was absolutely the worst idea he’s ever gone along with, and he hasn’t gone along with much. He thought it might be fun, see how the other side lives, maybe even mess Jason’s life up _just enough_ that he can get a taste of what it’s like- 

“Everything okay man? You seem weird.” He looks up from where he’d been mindlessly staring at the dashboard, and give his best nonchalant grin, pretends he’s putting on face for the ladies in Emeryville.

“Nah, yeah, it’s all good. Just, weird being back, you know? Having been away at camp for so long, I feel like I missed out on a lifetime of stuff. Like - I don’t know - like I’m a different person almost.” Steve looks at him, deep brown eyes skating all over his face, and goddamn, Billy’s _never_ had anyone look at him like that. Like they’re genuinely concerned, really trying to read him, to understand. 

“That’s fuckin’ deep, man. Did they have summer classes there, too?” Billy deflates. 

“Yeah, yeah right after weightlifting. Where we going?”

“Your choice, you’re the one that’s been gone all summer. What’d you miss the most?” And shit, did they talk about this? He knows he told Jason about the couple decent places in Emeryville, how to get to San Francisco, the best music store, the cheapest diner. But they’d been so focused on getting all forty of Jason’s closest friends down pat that there wasn’t much room left to learn about Hawkins. 

So he says what he assumes Jason would have said.

“Kim.”

Steve gets a sappy smile on his face as he puts the car into reverse and backs out of the driveway. “I get that, man. Nance’s been off at some science camp all summer. Can’t believe you both left me high and dry like that.”

“You had Tommy.” Billy gives himself a mental high five as Steve nods, lips pursed a little bit as he makes a turn at the stop sign.

“Yeah, but Tommy had Carol, _and_ he was being a total dick, bragging about not getting caught… shit man,” Steve pulls the car to the curb and turns to look at Billy, “I should have just confessed. Can’t _believe_ you took the heat for us like that.” And of _course_ these were the idiots Jason had been protecting. And the authorities _must_ have known, unless they’re dumb as a box of rocks, which... maybe. Billy hasn’t had the pleasure, yet. 

And if Billy were _Billy_ he’d probably agree, give the guy a good sock to the face, make him feel really guilty for leaving him in the lurch, getting him sent to some military camp hell hole a thousand miles away. But, Billy’s also never had a best friend, never even really had a _close_ friend, and, knowing what he knows of Jason, the moron had probably insisted he take the heat. They _probably_ had this exact conversation before he’d been sent to the camp. 

So Instead he shrugs, gives a small smile, the one Jason would get on his face when talking about Kim, and assures him, “Nah man, it’s fine, really.” And then, on impulse, adds, “And I’m sure you’ll make it up to me.” Steve’s eyes widen a little, and Billy files that reaction away for later. 

“What- what do you-” Billy waves a hand.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll get there. Now, c’mon,” he slaps his hand down to Steve’s right knee, squeezing a little before withdrawing, skin practically burning with the contact, “show me what I’ve been missing.”

 

+++++

 

As predicted, Hawkins is shit. A whole lot of nothing, surrounded by more nothing. Steve cruises them around for awhile, talks about the dumb shit he and Tommy did to pass the time, drives them by the site that his dad said they’d zoned to build a new mall. _”Opening Spring 1985, they’re gonna bulldoze this whole block for it.”_

They eventually end up at a diner, a bunch of noisy kids on the other side, heavyset waitress with too much eye makeup, and a fry cook that looks like a psycho. 

They’re waiting for their food, Billy mouthing at the straw of his Coke as he listens to Steve go on about this big mall project his dad’s in charge of, when the other boy suddenly stops, his eyes going wide. 

“Shit, uh, don’t look, but, fuck- Kim just walked in... with Jared.”

“Jared?” Steve takes Billy’s confusion as a sneer and nods.

“Yeah. _Jesus_ he’s such-, oh, oh shit, you probably don’t-” Steve pauses and sits back, face softening, “he took your spot on the football team.” And yeah, Jason had mentioned something about that, being cut from football because of the prank. But football didn’t mean dick in Cali, and Billy had only ever played a few pickup games as a kid when there was _literally_ nothing better to do, so he really didn’t get the loss it seemed Jason was feeling. 

There are worse things to live without. 

“Man, you know what? Fuck football. And fuck Kim. She wants him, she can have him.” And really he’s doing Jason a _favor_ , if that’s the way his girl is going to act when he’s down and out. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“But we haven’t gotten our food…” Billy stands up and fishes Jason’s wallet out of his back pocket, tossing down a couple of ones to cover their sodas.

“They can deal with it. I want pizza, anyway.” And before Steve can say anything else he starts walking toward the door, eyes scanning the room for the face from the pictures. Kim’s easier to spot, photo probably a lot more recent, or maybe girls just don’t change as much as guys do. He snorts, just loud enough for her to look up, before pulling open the door, Steve at his heels. 

“Shit, I hope they’re not pissed at us-”

“They’ll be fine, guarantee they throw more food than that away every day.” Billy says as he slides into the beamer, Steve helpless to follow. They sit quietly for a moment, Billy’s head flopped back against the headrest, eyes closed as he hears Steve shift around the driver’s seat.

“So… pizza?” Billy nods without opening his eyes.

“Yeah, _please_ tell me we still have a good pizza place around here at least.”

“Sure, they’d never close Uncle Joe’s.” Billy hears the gears shift, but when they don’t move immediately he cracks and angles his head to find Steve staring at him.

“What?”

“Nothing, just, that camp really _did_ kinda turn you into a different person.” He grabs his sunglasses off of the dash and slips them on before getting his hands back on the wheel. “I dig it.”

 

+++++

Billy uses the twenty from Judy to buy them a large pizza with everything and two drinks they each refill about four times. Billy tells carefully crafted stories about the camp that have Steve riveted, and he’s ready to make up thirty more if it means those brown eyes stay trained on him. 

But nothing good can last, and before long the pizza is gone, and Steve’s wiping the sauce off of his face with a napkin, and they’re headed out the door, the jingle of the bell sounding mournful in Billy’s ears. But Steve smiles at him, and Billy realizes this might be the closest thing he’s had to a real date in his life. Back home it was more about parties and hook-ups, keeping up appearances without having to commit to anything. 

A car honks at them from across the parking lot, and Billy looks up from where he’d been standing against the passenger door, watching Steve from over the car’s roof. An ancient Chevy comes barreling at them, and Billy glances back at Steve to see him roll his eyes, but the wide smile stays on his face. 

“Damn, he found us, I don’t get to hog you anymore,” he shouts over the blare of the horn, and Billy can’t help the fluttering in his chest, even as he’s already guessing who’s in the truck. It rolls to a stop in front of them, effectively blocking the beamer from any chance of escape.

“The hell?! You guys’re hanging out without me?” A voice shouts from the opening door. Billy’s gonna gamble.

“Hey Tommy,” he waves, and is validated as the freckled face from the photos hops out of the truck. He looks bigger than he did in the pictures, but nowhere near the transformation Steve must have gone through. 

“Holy shit, J-man! What’d they do to you?” Tommy’s running over and grabbing at his arms, and geezus, who knew midwest hicks were so handsy?

“They put me to work, man, get’off,” he says, shrugging his arms and backing away from the groping hands. Tommy laughs. 

“Coach is gonna be _pissed_ when he sees you. Oh shit, you hear who-”

“Yeah he heard,” Steve cuts off, walking over to give a side hug to the short girl who had climbed out of the passenger side of the truck. And fuck, what was her name? Steve had said it earlier, Nance… no that was his… it’s Tommy and… shit. 

“So when’s the princess get back?” The girl asks, leaning into Steve’s side a bit. 

“Friday, just in time for the BBQ. Can’t wait, I haven’t heard from her in _weeks_.” 

“Really?” The girl- _Carol_ , it’s Carol- cranes her neck up and over so she can see Steve’s face, “She hasn’t written or anything?”

“Nah, but, I mean, they’re probably really busy with whatever the hell people do at a science camp, right?” Carol shrugs noncommittally and wanders away to go lean against Tommy, shoulders pressing into his chest. They’re dressed like they just came from the beach, or more likely a pool, and suddenly Billy _needs_ to get in the water. A summer without swimming is practically criminal in his book. And while a community pool is a far, _far_ cry from the beach, it’s something. 

“So when’re we hitting the water?” Everyone’s heads turn to look at him, and shit, that was yet _another_ thing they’d never talked about. Seriously, all the time Jason wasted trying to push Styx onto Billy he could have been letting him know, _”Oh, by the way I hate swimming, and Ethiopian food is poison, also my best friend is really cute please don’t try to fuck him.”_

What could have been…

“C’mon, what’s past is past and Texas was _hot_.” He hopes a little levity will break the sudden awkwardness of the situation. Steve gets a half smile on his face, glances at Tommy, then back at Billy.

“Yeah man, anytime you want, come on over.” And shit, the guy really _does_ have all the toys. 

“Parents back yet?” Tommy asks, arms encircled around Carol, swaying her back and forth.

“Tomorrow, Mom’s all excited about the barbecue. Picked up some fancy steaks or seasoning or something, I don’t know I wasn’t really listening,” he looks over and nods at Billy, “You still want to check out Corny’s?” Billy has _no_ idea what that could even mean, but schools his expression and bobs his head.

“Yeah, we could do that.” Steve smiles and turns back to Tommy and Carol.

“You guys coming?”

“Nah, gotta get the truck back or Kurt’ll kill me. Lemme know if you end up celebrating your last night of freedom, though.” Steve rolls his eyes and waves them away, watching as the two hoist themselves into the truck. Tommy gives them the finger and honks about twelve times before they rumble away, and seriously, the people Jason chooses to spend his time with. 

“Ready to go?” 

Present company notwithstanding. 

 

++++++

 

Turns out Corny’s is actually Cornelia’s, an independently owned record store on the main drag in Hawkins. Billy’s surprised something this hip actually exists in the podunk town. 

“Hey, you get this yet?” Steve asks from the other side of the tapes, holding up a dark cassette tape. Billy peers forward to find it’s a live album for Styx, _Caught in the Act_. He makes a face and shakes his head, before remembering he’s supposed to be Jason, who for some god unknown reason has a huge hard-on for the band. 

“Nah, some guys at the camp turned me onto some new stuff.” He lets his fingers drift over the M’s and gets a huge grin on his face as he sees a new addition to Metallica’s discography. “Like this.” He holds up the cassette case wrapped in shiny cellophane, _Ride the Lightning_ tacked onto the bottom, almost like an afterthought under the emblazoned _Metallica_. 

“Really?”

“Yeah man, you should give it a listen.”

Steve takes the tape from his hands, looking at the front and back judiciously before making a “hmph” sound and shrugging. 

“Maybe I will,” he says before putting the cassette into the small wire basket they provide at the front for big shoppers. Billy’s only ever been able to afford one, maybe two tapes at a time, and never saw the use of them. But looking now, Steve’s snuck at least four cassettes in there, Billy’s suggestion making it five. 

“You getting all of those?”

“Yeah, if I don’t like ‘em I’ll just give them to Nancy’s brother. The kid wouldn't know cool if it bit him in the nose, he won’t know the difference.” 

Billy gapes. He can’t help it. The thought of buying a tape of a band you don’t even know and had never listened to before, just to decide you don’t like it and just toss it at the next willing pair of ears… it doesn’t exist in his world. 

But he’s not in his world, is he? He reaches into his back pocket and rifles through Jason’s wallet. He’s got about thirty dollars in random bills, likely some sort of allowance since he'd never talked about having a job or anything. But the stuff he _didn’t_ tell Billy could fill the Scotts’ house, so he wouldn’t be surprised if he were to go back and find a phone call demanding to know where he’s been. 

But regardless, he _does_ have about thirty dollars.

“Well here, let me get the Metallica one. I know _I’ll_ like it at least.”

“Nah man, it’s cool, I got it.” Steve gives him a smile, eyebrows slightly raised, and Billy has forgotten that he’s really only known this boy for a handful of hours, because he can _read_ that smile. A little coy, a little mischievous, telling Billy that he’s going to do something, but he’s going to like it. 

He wants to see that smile over and over again. 

This is bad. 

He tries to shake the feeling by browsing through the racks and grabbing a Judas Priest tape. Jason fucking owes him.

+++++

The clock on the dashboard reads 5:26 as Steve starts up the car, bag of newly purchased tapes sitting on the console between them. He paws through it for a moment before coming up with the new Metallica tape.

“Here ya go man, little welcome back present.” He tosses it towards Billy’s lap, where he embarrassingly fumbles to catch it. He’d really been joking when he said Steve could “make it up to him,” a bit of wishful thinking on his part, but it looks like he’s really trying to make good. Or maybe this is just how he is, buying presents for people he cares about just because he can, because he wants to. Billy’s never known anyone like that. Most people in his life are trying to get something _from_ him: money, a ride, a hit, a fuck. 

“Well come on, man, don’t just stare at it! Unwrap it and put it in.” Billy holds back a groan at the unintentional innuendo Steve just throw at him and does as he’s told, _only_ because if he doesn’t he’ll probably end up having to listen to Wham! or some such shit. He shoves the plastic wrapping into his pocket before popping open the case and pushing the cassette into the tape deck. He watches Steve’s face; eyebrows a bit furrowed as the light instrumental intro starts, then lift as the guitars and drums come thrashing in about forty five seconds later. Billy’s adrenaline rockets with the sounds coming from the speakers and the smile on Steve’s face. 

“Your camp friends have good taste!” He shouts over the raucous music, hands failing to keep the beat as he slaps at the wheel and grins, “I dig it!”

God _damnit_ Billy is in trouble.


	8. Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy gets a phone call~

True to his word, Steve gets him home in time for dinner, and even joins them for a bit before wiping his mouth with a napkin and saying he has to get home and make sure the house is clean before his parents are back in the morning. 

“But hey, if you really wanna get in a swim call me up, or just come on over.” Steve says, slapping a hand on Billy’s shoulder and giving a squeeze before thanking the Scotts and heading for the door. Billy falters for a second, unsure if he should follow Steve to walk him out. He feels like it’s something he _should_ do, but by the time he processes what he thinks Jason would do versus what a normal human might possibly do he’s already hearing the soft _snickt_ of the front door closing. 

“You’re swimming now?” Lyle asks, fork paused amidst the broccoli on his plate. Judy is similarly frozen, eyes wide, fork still in her mouth. 

“Yeah, I mean, I figured it’s about time, right? And they had us- there were lake drills, at the camp. No one was exempt. So, just got used to it.” Billy practically mumbles the last bit, moving his vegetables around his plate, eyes cast down to watch the broccoli being pushed into the potatoes. 

“Well, good for you! Looks like that camp really did do you good!” Lyle beams at him, Judy shooting a sideways glance at her husband before following suit. 

“We’re so proud of the man you’re becoming. It’s been, what, three years since the incident?”

“Yeah, yeah just about...” Billy can’t help the feeling that he’s being trapped somehow. He shovels the rest of his food into his mouth, barely taking the time to chew, before grabbing his plate and asking to be excused. Judy nods, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, as Billy takes his and Steve’s abandoned plates into the kitchen. He rinses and stacks them neatly on the side of the sink to be washed later before running upstairs, into the imagined safety of his borrowed bedroom. 

He puts on his new Judas Priest tape, but quickly switches it out with Metallica. He and Steve had driven aimlessly around, listening to all of Side A before they had to be back for dinner. Steve had pressed the tape into his palm before saying, _“Bring it next time, yeah? I need to hear the rest.”_

He falls onto the bed, arm draped over his eyes as he replays the afternoon in his mind. Every smile, every casual touch, that weird little wink-thing Steve would do when he thought he said something particularly clever… 

_Fuck_ , it’s only been a day! Is it even possible to have a crush on someone after only one day of knowing them? Billy curls into the fetal position, his stomach in knots. He doesn’t _get_ crushes. _Especially_ not on straight boys. That’s like a disaster wrapped up in a bedsheet of disappointment followed by a damn near death sentence. 

_”Jason! Phone!”_

“Fucking fantastic,” he grumbles, turning over and lying flat on his back, arms out and palms up for five seconds before hoisting himself up.

_”Jason?”_

“Coming!” He hollers, pushing down the stop button on the tape player before exiting the room. He trots down the stairs, casual as he can manage, running a hand through his hair before thanking Judy and taking the receiver.

“Hello?” He’s expecting the voice to be male, maybe a boss or a friend of Jason’s, or possibly female, Kim calling to make amends. What he’s absolutely _not_ expecting is-

“Oh, is this _JAY-son_ I’m speaking to? _Is it_?” Billy’s eyes shoot to Judy, who has thankfully turned back towards the living room where Jeopardy is playing across the TV screen. 

“I’m gonna take it in my room,” he says, holding the cordless phone to his chest and running for the stairs before he can get an answer. He thinks he hears Judy say, _“It’s a girl~”_ in a sing song voice, but she couldn’t be more wrong. 

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me, shitbird?!” He seethes into the phone the second the door is shut. “How the hell did you get this number?”

“How the hell do you _think_?” He grimaces. _Godammit Jason._

“Are you at home?” He asks, rubbing his face with his free hand.

“No, because _some of us_ aren’t complete morons. We’re at the payphone down by Ralph’s.” Billy breathes a little easier. No way a long distance call to Indiana would go amiss in the Hargrove house.

“So, Neil doesn’t know?”

“Not yet.” He hears the phone shuffle around, “But seriously, _what the hell, Billy?_ ”

“It’s a long story, we’re still figuring it out. Put Jason on.”

“This is super creepy, you know.”

“Just put him on, Maxine!”

“Fine, but you owe me.” He hears the phone shift again, and this time a voice he knows all too well comes through the receiver.

“So, that bus ride sucked.”

“HOW THE HELL DOES MAX KNOW ALREADY?” He shout-whispers into the mouthpiece, walking deeper into the bedroom.

“Good to hear from you, too.” If Billy could strangle someone through the phone, he absolutely would. 

“Jason, I _swear_ -”

“It’s fine. She’s on our side, right? Right, Max? Right?”

“ _Fuck_ , put Max back on.”

“But-”

“NOW!”

“ _Gee-zuz_.” He hears the phone shuffle again, and Max saying, “You know we’re gonna run out of coins-”

“Then talk fast, how did you know he wasn’t me?”

“Uh, he _smiled_ at me? Said ‘ _Hi Max_ ’ and had a big grin and I knew something was up.” Billy grimaces, both in that Jason apparently hadn’t listened to a word he’d said, and that all it had taken was a smile and a friendly gesture to make Max instantly suspicious. When did he get to be _such_ an asshole?

“Shit, okay, listen Max, I _promise_ I’ll explain everything later, when I get back-“

“You’re _sure_ you’re coming back?” And he’s almost touched, until she adds, “I mean, did you geniuses even think that part through?”

And, no, no they hadn’t. 

“Of _course_ we did. Now put Jason back on, I gotta ask him some shit.”

“Fine.” He hears the phone change hands once more.

“So how’s-“ Billy cuts him off before he can get any further.

“Nuh uh, I need some fucking _answers_. What’s your deal with swimming? I mentioned hitting the water and everyone looked at me like I’d grown a second, ugly head.” The line goes quiet, and Billy wonders if they’d already run out of coins when he hears a heavy inhale. 

“Yeah, shit, that was in middle school... sixth grade, me and a few of the guys were dicking around at the quarry, and somebody jumped from the top. Slammed into the water like it was concrete. It was totally fucked up. Then... when we went to the pool... I freaked out. Kept seeing that guy, hearing that sound...”

“Geez- _uz_ …” Billy was expecting some kind of stupid _I almost drowned_ situation he could wave off, being older now and... “Wait, did you say _sixth_ grade? Like, five years ago?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“Dude, I will _never_ forget that day.”

“ _Shit_.” Judy had definitely trapped him. She knew, she _had_ to know. 

”Hey, okay, my turn; have you seen Kim yet?” Billy rolls his eyes and moves the phone to his other shoulder. 

“Yeah, I saw her, with some chode named Jeremy.”

“ _Jeremy_?”

“Yeah, apparently he took your football spot, too. I don’t even know why yo-”

“Oh fuck, you mean _Jared_? They made _fucking Jared_ the running back? _And_ he’s trying to weasel in on Kim? You gotta be _kidding_ me!”

“That’s what I saw, man. Anyway, you can do way better than her. There’re hotter chicks working the hotdog stand at the park.” 

“It’s not- it’s more than that. I really thought she was the one, you know?”

“That was your first mistake. And the one perk of being me? You’re not attached to _anyone_. You can do _whoever_ you want, as long as the old man don’t know. And keep shitbird out of it. You met Neil yet?” 

“Yeah…”

“You okay?” Normally Billy would try to play it more cool, show how much he doesn’t care, but he knows Neil. Knows how he can get. And after experiencing this pristine paradise Jason came from, there’s no way he’s prepared for a life with Neil Hargrove. 

“Yeah, he gave me - well, _you_ \- a lecture on the ride back, poked me in the head- just like you said, told me to keep my shit together, don’t slack off this year...” 

“Sounds about right.”

“Dropped me at the house, I met Max, then we came here.” Billy pauses, trying to do mental math of bus travel speeds and time zones.

“... how long have you been there?”

“Bout an hour.” Shit, an _hour_? Max sniffed him out in less than an _hour_? 

“Jesus Christ we’re so fucked. Listen, just, fuck, just keep on his good side. At least now you got Max to show you the ropes. Put ‘er back on.”

“Fine,” the phone gets passed again without a goodbye. 

“So what am I supposed to _do_ with him?” Max asks in a huff. Billy rubs at the bridge of his nose, eyes pinched shut.

“ _Help_ him. The guy came from some richie rich palace, got no idea how to live in a normal house,” then, to sweeten the pot, adds, “Hey, this is full opportunity to boss “me” around. I know you’ve been dying to do that.” Max is quiet, like she’s mulling it over, and Billy can just imagine her red hair swaying side to side.

“Fine, but you owe me _big_.”

“Yeah yeah. You good?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of him.” 

They hang up without saying goodbye, and Billy lays on the bed, phone slipping from his lax hand to the floor, head swimming with thoughts of what Jason’s going through, what _he’s_ going through. Max knowing, Judy _probably_ knowing, Neil finding out eventually- how they’ll trade back if they’re somehow _not_ found out, shit, what if they have to start school as each other…?

“Fuck…” he groans, turning to his side. _And_ he’d forgotten to ask if Jason has a job. Shit. 

 

+++++

 

Lyle and Judy are both already gone when he wakes up, Judy leaving a quick note asking him to take out the trash and put the cordless back on the dock. 

After completing his two “chores” Billy paws around the kitchen, amazed and a little frustrated at how many cabinets he has to open to find the bowls, and then several more to find the cereal. He grabs a box of Total and fills the bowl almost to the brim, letting the milk take it to nearly overflowing. 

He sits quietly as he eats, shoving spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, wondering how the hell Jason spent his days. No car, no job, no step-sister to keep tabs of, nowhere to _go_ in Hawkins... he drinks the leftover milk out of the bowl and fills it up again. Steve had said his parents were getting back today, so it’s unlikely he’ll be dropping by the house. And even though he had basically given Billy an open invitation to his place, he doesn’t know where the guy _lives_ , and it’d be a little suspicious to have to ask. 

A lot suspicious. 

He ends up wandering around the house, opening every door, drawer, cabinet, taking stock of everything Jason has access to. Around noon he unearths the photo albums; big, ornate binders, heavy with pictures of the Scott family. It’s a sadistic curiosity that has him pulling them off the shelf, laying them side by side on the floor, gilded lettering of the puffy covers mocking him. _Family Memories: Vol I, Happy Family_ , and _Glory Days_. 

He opens up _Family Memories: Vol I_ , and sees a much younger Lyle and Judy, standing at an alter, Judy in a long white gown, nothing fancy, holding a bouquet, Lyle next to her in a standard suit, mustache overtaking his upper lip, hair long and floppy. What shocks him, though, is his mom in the following picture, arms around Judy, looking as happy as though she were the one getting hitched. 

Neil is nowhere in sight. 

He flips the page, plastic edges sticking a little, and sees what he can only assume to be their honeymoon: tropical plants, sunsets, Judy in a pretty floral dress. He wonders if Jason ever looked at these, looked at the life his parents had before he was thrusted upon them. Before Neil gave him up. 

Before their mom died. 

He flips the page again, and keeps flipping until he sees a chubby looking baby enter the scene. Well, not really a baby, more like a toddler, standing on his own in front of a coffee table, eyes big and cheeks bigger. 

After that the blond baby with the wide blue eyes becomes the sole focus of the album. Billy can’t even fathom how much film they wasted on the kid. He doesn’t think Neil has a single photo of him in the house. Certainly doesn’t remember a camera ever being in his face. 

He skips _Happy Family_ , pretty sure the thing would end up in a fireplace, and goes right to _Glory Days_. It’s still Jason-centric , but Judy and Lyle seem to have remembered they exist as well, and show up here and there. There are a lot of Jason in a football uniform, on the field, some blurry action shots. The guy was active, that’s for sure. Football, basketball, soccer. There’s a photo of him and Steve, probably from a couple years ago, Jason in his football getup, Steve in ridiculously short shorts, laughing about god knows what. Probably Steve’s long, skinny legs. Billy wonders if Steve is still on the track team, or cross country, or whatever it is that got him into that getup. Wonders if the shorts are still that short.

He flips the page before he can dwell too long on it, and finds Jason with his arm around some blonde, both dressed up, probably heading to freshman homecoming or some other stupid high school dance. In another few pages Kim appears, and Billy’s surprised to find they’d been going together since at least ‘83, if this ‘Sadie Hawkins’ caption is anything to go by. 

Page after page, picture after picture, Jason’s perfect existence is laid out for him. Billy feels his chest tighten, hears the crinkling of distressed pastic as his fingers grip a little too tight at the edge of the page. He shoves the album away before he can tear anything, jumping up from where he’d been sitting cross-legged on the floor and runs both hands through his hair as he paces back and forth. 

_It’s not fair_ , beats through his brain, igniting the center of rage inside him, _he got everything, EVERYTHING, and what do you have?_ The ball of frustration, anger, jealousy, everything he’s feeling right now squeezes at his insides until he can barely breathe, and grabs the first thing he sees off the coffee table, not even registering what it is before he’s chucking it at the wall. He hears the satisfying shatter of broken glass, and his chest loosens a little, breathing coming a bit easier. 

He wants to do it again. 

His hands land on a crystal ashtray, looking too clean to be used regularly, and flings it across the room. He watches as it connects with the wall, an explosion of glittering shards, before grabbing for the next thing. 

He’s got a framed school picture of Jason clutched in his fist, above his head, when he hears a panicked, “Jason!” and feels a hand on his raised arm, tugging it down. It takes everything in him to fight his instinct and not swing blindly at them. 

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” He recognizes Lyle’s voice now, and lets the picture drop to the floor where it settles unharmed on the plush carpet, before turning around, shocked to find a face full of concern rather than white-hot rage. 

“It’s-” his brain flies through possible scenarios, settles on the lamest but most easily convincing one, and takes in a shuddering breath before muttering, “Kim broke up with me.” The face in front of him immediately softens.

“Oh pal,” he watches a hand come at him with trepidation, worried he’s about to be pulled into a hug, but Lyle just pats his shoulder, “I get it. You’re hurting, so you want the world to hurt, too. But,” he pauses, glancing at the glass shards sprinkled along the edge of the wall, “destroying things doesn’t make the pain go away. Normally makes it worse.”

Billy wants to disagree, knows for a fact when he broke the first thing his entire body felt lighter, the pain easier to manage. But as he looks over and sees the scuff marks on the wallpaper, the little hard candies intermixed with the broken glass, he’s hit with a wave of guilt. 

“I’ll clean it up, sir,” Lyle smiles warmly at him, gives his shoulder a squeeze. 

“C’mon, you’re home, just call me dad. I’ll go get some gloves and a bag. Can you go find where Rosita left the vacuum?” Billy could do that. Knew from his adventures earlier that it was upstairs in what looked to be some kind of study. 

“Sure thing, dad.”

“Oh and son,” Billy pauses from his attempt to exit, heart lurching into his throat as he turns back around.

“Yeah?”

“I know it hurts now, but you’re young, and there are plenty of fish in the sea.”


	9. The Barbeque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy's first trip to the Harrington Estate~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how fanon has basically overblown the Harringtons' house to some sprawling mansion, and I am no exception. It's just fun story fodder, so please join me in my magical realism and the idea that the Harringtons def have a ridiculous fountain in the middle of their circular driveway. 
> 
> Also, y’all are absolute babes and I love you all so much! Going through some rough patches right now and writing has helped, and hearing such kind and wonderful words of affirmation have helped keep me going, so truly truly truly thank you!!

Billy sits in the back of the sedan, feeling like a little kid as he balances the glass bowl holding the “homemade” potato salad on his lap, watching the manicured trees go by while Lyle talks inanely from the driver’s seat. Judy responds every so often, laughing, smiling, catching Billy’s eye in the vanity mirror as she triple checks her lipstick. He gives her a quick thumbs up, which seems to assuage her as she smiles and flips the visor back into place. 

Billy’s been on eggshells for the last day and a half, waiting for Judy to call him out, send him packing, demand to have her son back. But things have been good, easy even. They went out to dinner at a pretty swank place the other night, where the waitress gave him a wink and Lyle shot him a knowing nod and brief smile. Judy had seemed totally at ease, drinking wine and laughing at her husband’s stories, smiling genuinely at Billy, no calculation in her eyes. Billy’s not sure if Lyle told her about the broken things in the family room, but maybe, if he did, it made him seem more like Jason, getting all bent out of shape over some chick. Or maybe it was never anything at all to being with and he’s being overly paranoid. A lifetime with Neil Hargrove will do that to a person. 

Before long they’re pulling into a lavish driveway, a handful of cars already parked carefully around an ornate fountain. Lyle pulls up behind a red coupe and turns the engine off, and Billy tries not to gawk. This is obviously not Jason’s first time at the Harrington’s, but Billy’s never seen anything like it. Emeryville is small, modest, the biggest houses just a touch smaller than the Scotts’. Even San Francisco doesn’t have places like this, too jam-packed for something this sprawling. 

He hurries out of the car, following Lyle and Judy up the walk, tin foil scratching at his fingers as he jostles the bowl a bit in his effort to catch up before Lyle rings the bell. 

A glamorous looking older woman answers the door, smiling wide and ushering them inside, accepting the bottle of wine Lyle is carrying and kissing the air next to Judy’s face before she turns her attention onto Billy. 

“Would you look at this boy! My goodness, I bet he’s breaking hearts all over the place.”

Billy smirks, and then has to raise the bowl above his head as the woman comes in for a hug, her right hand slipping down his back to give his butt a quick squeeze. His eyes go wide as he grunts, but it’s over as quick as it happened, the woman already turning back to Jason’s parents, taking each of their arms before looking behind her and throwing a quick wink to Billy. He grips the bowl so hard he’s a little amazed it doesn’t shatter, and lets out an audible breath as he sees Steve traipsing down the staircase, his eyes lighting up as they fall on Billy still paused at the landing. 

“Hey man, let me take that for you,” Steve says, reaching out for the bowl even before he’s off the final step. Billy hands it over and follows him into the kitchen, where there’s already an impressive spread of food. Steve finds some empty space on the counter to set the bowl before jerking his head toward the sliding glass door, leading to the back patio. Billy follows wordlessly, still taking in the splendor that is the Harrington home, and the backyard is no exception. Meticulously landscaped with an in-ground pool acting as the centerpiece, people dotted around the lawn in groups of twos and threes, an expansive wooded area acting as a natural backdrop. 

He’s knocked out of his gawking as a cold glass bottle is pressed into his palm, fingers curling around it responsively. He raises an eyebrow as he looks down and sees the label of some fancy imported beer, then flicks his eyes back to Steve, who winks as he’s already got his own bottle up to his lips. 

Damn but he looks good like that. 

“So how’s uh, how’s Nancy?” Billy asks, focusing in on his beer as he takes a swig, the liquid cold and crisp and tart on his tongue. Nothing like the Millers he would swipe from his old man’s fridge as often as he could get away with it. 

“Haven’t even seen her yet. Apparently they took the long way back, got home late. She called though, said she’d see me here.” Steve’s taking another pull, eyes darting around the lawn, likely looking for the girl in question. 

Billy hums noncommittally, not sure what to say in this type of situation. He eyes a couple of girls standing by the pool, giggling and throwing glances their way, and winks at them out of instinct. The one on the right’s face goes as red as her hair, while the other gives him her own sultry smile. 

“Geezus, you don’t take time off, do ya?” Steve asks, smiling around the lip of the bottle. 

“Nothing wrong with a little fun, Stevie,” he says, turning the wink on him, and chooses to believe the light tint to his cheeks is the beginnings of a blush, and not just the effects of standing directly in the sun for the past hour. 

The girls make their way over, the brunette leading the redhead, until they’re standing across from them. They just hang out there for a moment, smiling, taking dainty sips from their soda cans, until the brunette saunters a little closer to Billy, giving him a clear once-over. 

“Hey Jason, good to see you’re finally back. Steve.” She tacks on like an afterthought, nodding at Steve with the jut of her chin. Steve rolls his eyes, but keeps a smile on his face, and answers Billy’s silent prayers by living up to his host status and greeting the girls.

“Nicole, Vicki, glad you could make it. Nikki, you still dating Carl?” Billy’s a little thrown by the bluntness of his question, but for all he knows Steve could be looking for a side piece. Though in his opinion he could do a hell of a lot better than these cows. 

“We’ll see,” she answers, eyes still crawling over Billy. “Heard Kim’s been going around with Jared. Her loss,” she sets a hand on Billy’s arm, and he knows this game. Perfected it years ago. He flexes a little, enough to get a little gasp from the girl, a spike of interest from her friend, and a jealous glare from Steve. But when he looks over Steve’s not looking at him, he’s looking at the girl, Nicole or Nikki, or maybe it was Vicki? Billy’s shit at names, particularly when he doesn’t care about the person. 

Steve’s probably friends with the bitch’s boyfriend, trying to look out for him, make sure his girl stays faithful. He gives a wry grin and a shrug, which effectively drops the girl’s hand from his arm. Steve catches his eye, and looks like he’s about to say something before his focus is pulled to the house. Billy follows his gaze to see a waif of a thing standing just past the patio door, fingers still lingering on the handle. 

“Nance!” Steve shouts, face breaking out into a huge grin as he waves his hand over his head. The girl whips her head around, waves and smiles, but her enthusiasm doesn’t match Steve’s. The smile is small, the wave hesitant, which quickly morphs into a “come over here” motion. Steve pats Billy on the shoulder before jogging over, leaning down to give the girl a kiss. Billy’s heart stutters as he watches her move her head a little, so the kiss lands on her cheek instead of her lips. 

Even _he_ knows that’s not good. 

Billy watches as the skinny girl takes Steve by the hand, leading him away from the rest of the party, around to the side of the house, but not quite out of sight. Not from where Billy’s standing, anyway, drinking his beer, pretending to listen to Vicki or Nikki or whoever prattle on. He can still see them, see Steve pull his hand away, see the girl’s hands raise, clutch at her chest. See Steve start to reach for her before pulling his hand back as she turns a shoulder. And he _should_ feel terrible when he sees the girl run off around the house, Steve stalking the other way, brushing past a couple of people and pulling the sliding door open with more force than necessary. He should feel _sad_ for his friend, empathize with him, not feel a little spark of giddiness, hope in the idea that Harrington is newly single.

Not that that means anything for _him_. 

“Oh no, that looked bad. Maybe someone should talk to him,” Vicki/Nikki says at his side, and yeah, _yeah_ , friends totally do that shit for each other. He tosses his empty bottle behind him and heads for the door, not bothering to say goodbye to whoever was talking with him. That’s Jason’s problem for later. 

Steve needs him now. 

He slides the door open, stepping into the air conditioning with a sigh. California’s hot, but Indiana summers are fucking _humid_. His skin feels tacky with drying sweat as he makes his way through the house, unsure which way Steve would have gone. He pauses to listen, blocking out the party noises from outside best he can, and that’s when he hears it. The faint sounds of drums and a synthesizer, muffled through the ceiling. Billy trots up the stairs, rolling his eyes as he catches some of the strains of music. Classic fuckin’ heartbreak. 

The sounds of Bonnie Tyler lead him to a closed door. No signs or stickers on it, nothing to personalize it as Steve’s, but it has to be his. He turns the knob and pushes the door open slowly, not bothering with knocking, and finds Steve splayed out over the bed, head tilted up to the ceiling, eyes closed. He’s also absolutely assaulted with plaid (who the _hell_ decorates with plaid?) but chooses to focus on Steve. 

“Hey man, you okay?” The boy on the bed jerks, then covers his face with a pillow.

“Geeeeezus _fuck_ , get out, man.”

“You know I’m not gonna do that,” Billy pushes the door shut behind him, resting his back against the wood, knob digging into his tailbone. “Too good a friend.”

“Yeah yeah,” Steve flings the pillow at him, which he easily grabs out of the air and carries around with him as he walks slowly through the room, taking in the trophies and the pictures, the collection of cassettes on Steve’s dresser. He wonders if it would be weird if he sat on the bed with him, just nudged his legs over and settled in. Jason had probably done it plenty of times, they seemed close in all the pictures, and Steve, _god_ , Steve had touched him _so much_ that day they hung out. To get his attention, to make a point, sometimes just to laugh. 

Just as he’s about to bite the bullet and join the prettiest boy he’s ever seen on probably the most expensive bed he’s ever been in a room with, Steve sits up, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair, making it stand up and shoot out in all sorts of crazy angles.

This does nothing to quell the want Billy feels in his gut. 

“So I bet you can guess what happened,” Steve says, hand still rubbing at the side of his face. 

“Yeah… you, uh, you wanna talk about it?” Fuck, Billy’s out of his depth. 

“No... yeah... maybe, I mean… _god_ ,” Steve flings himself back onto the bed, arms flying out on either side, legs dangling over the edge. Billy moves in closer, pillow still clutched to his chest. 

“Says she met someone at camp.” Steve starts, looking straight at the ceiling, “They got close, ended up kissing and shit, and she wants space so she can _explore this_.” Billy can practically see the air-quotes in Steve’s voice. 

“And I was ready to forgive her! Like, I get it, away from home, new experiences, a taste of the wild side, like, who _hasn’t_ thought about it? But then- you _come home_ , and you realize everything you wanted was right here all along. Isn’t that how the story’s _supposed_ to go?”

“Stories are all bullshit,” Billy says, setting the pillow back onto the bed between the headboard and Steve’s waist, resting his own hip against the side of the mattress.

“And what’s real crazy, I feel like, I knew it was coming? Like, I kinda knew that, when she got back, we were gonna break up. I almost didn’t _want_ her to come back. Just... live in ignorance.”

“Nah,” Billy eases himself onto the bed, one cheek and a thigh balanced precariously on the edge of the mattress, “better to get out and move on. Plenty of fish in the sea, yeah? And a pretty boy like you? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Steve snorts, “Easy for you to say.”

“Huh?”

“I mean,” he hoists himself up, flinging his legs around until he’s on his knees, nearly jostling Billy right off the bed, “you and Kim are _barely_ broken up and you’ve already had pretty much every girl in town jumping on you. Come back from camp looking all tan and perfect. Fuck man, with you on the market no one’s gonna _glance_ at me.”

“Shit, when _was_ the last time we were both single?” Billy deflects, partly to get information, but mostly so he doesn’t slip up and say something stupid like _Are you insane? I’d do you in a second, you’re gorgeous!_ Yeah, he can’t imagine _that_ going over well. 

“Shit… probably… freshman year? Between Tina and Jessica for me… can’t remember who you were with.”

“Don’t matter. Point is, we both still made it out, yeah? And like I said, plenty of bitches in the sea.” Steve looks at him, eyebrows raised, and Billy realizes his slip up. Jason’s probably never called a girl a bitch in his life. 

But Steve just smiles, easing himself back down so his butt is back on the bed, long legs half-on, half-off. 

“Yeah, yeah this could be good, us single at the same time. Hell of a lot better than third-wheeling it, am I right?” He smacks the back of his hand against Billy’s shoulder, patting him twice before he rests it back on the bed, twisting at the blanket a little bit. 

“Damn straight,” Billy says, absently rubbing the spot where Steve had just touched him. 

“Do you remember-” Steve laughs and looks away, down at where his finger is picking at a loose thread on his comforter, “do you remember in 6th grade, when Tommy first got with Carol and bragged about kissing her, and we - _heh_ \- we were too embarrassed to say we’d never kissed anyone? So we decided we should practice?“ Billy’s heart is beating a million miles a minute, he’s so scared he’s going to go into cardiac arrest before he gets to see this play out. 

“Yeah- yeah I remember you were real bad at it.” Steve shoots a wide-eyed look at him, but grins when he sees Billy’s own smile.

“Hey, _you’re_ the one who didn’t know what to do with your tongue! All _bllaahahala_ ,” he closes his eyes and swipes his tongue back and forth across his open mouth. Billy scoffs and shoves him a little, causing Steve to lose his balance and fall back, laughing as he catches himself on his elbows.

“Yeah well, I know what I’m doing now,” he can’t help but rake his eyes over Steve and _god_ , he looks so good, half laid out on the bed, shirt rucked up just enough to see a sliver of belly, a trail of dark hair leading down.

What the fuck was Nancy _thinking_? 

“Yeah? Maybe you should prove it,” Billy’s eyes shoot to Steve’s, unsure if heard right. If Steve meant what he thinks he meant. What he _hopes_. 

“What, you want- you want me to bring whatshername up here and show you?” His voice is hoarser than he remembers, heart beating so hard he can hear it in his ears. Steve rolls his head to the side, glancing out the window where the barbeque is still in full swing. Now that he’s focusing Billy can hear the lame 60’s music from the outside; he’d been so tuned in on Steve that he didn’t even notice when Bonnie had stopped telling them to “ _turn around, brighteyes_.” 

“Eh, that seems like a lot of work for a quick demo-”

“Who said anything about it being quick?” Steve’s eyes widen as he pushes himself back up to sitting, their faces less than a foot apart.

“Looks like you got some fire in you after all,” he smiles, brown eyes shining a little as he leans forward. And Billy knows this move, knows what’s happening, knows he should stop him. _Jason_ would stop him. 

Thank god he’s not Jason.

Steve is achingly gentle, from the way his fingers comb through Billy’s hair, to how he brushes their lips against each other once, twice, testing the waters before pressing forward, sealing their mouths together. And Billy’s no virgin, kissed pretty much every girl in Emeryville and fucked more than a few, but _this_ , nothing has _ever_ come close to this. The way Steve lets out a little gasp every time he pulls away, just to dive back in for more. The way he nibbles on his lower lip, tongue coaxing his mouth open. 

It is far and away _the best_ kiss Billy has ever had. 

He feels a light tug at his neck, urging him to follow Steve down, down, until his forearms are pressed against the mattress, boxing Steve in as the rasp of their jeans rubbing against each other grows more frantic. There are too many layers between them still, but the friction is delicious, with Steve’s hands palming Billy’s ass, squeezing and tugging, seemingly hellbent on defying all physics and getting them skin to skin without removing any clothing. 

Billy’s mouth moves to Steve’s jaw, following the strong line up to his ear, where he tugs on his earlobe, hoping Steve is like him, likes a little pain with his pleasure. A sharp groan and a thrust of his hips is Billy’s reward, and he grins even as he still holds the earlobe captive between his teeth. 

“Mmmm, _Jason_ ,” Steve moans into his hair, and it’s as though a bucket of ice water’s been poured down Billy’s pants. _Fuck_ , how could he get so carried away? 

“Shit, Steve, you’re-” he breathes out, pulling away, getting as much distance as his arms will allow, “we gotta stop.”

“What?”

“You- you’re sad, and you’re lonely, and I don’t- I don’t want to be a mistake you regret later.” 

Steve looks up at him, lips bruised, hair tousled, looking every inch Billy’s nightly fantasy- except for the eyes. His eyes are dark, hard, _betrayed_. 

“I think you should go.”

“Steve-”

“Go!” He shouts, eyes widening, scrambling out from underneath Billy. “Get out! Don’t, don’t tell- just, just don’t.” He works his way off the other side of the bed, hands running through his hair as Billy adjusts his pants, his shirt, wondering how fucked over he looks, before Steve’s pointing a damning finger at him.

“I swear to god, Scott, you tell _anyone_ -”

“Yeah yeah,” he raises his hands in mock surrender, backing toward the door, “just some practice, right? Stay sharp in the off season?”

“Yeah,” Steve drops his hand to his side, where it immediately flies back up to run through his hair for the fiftieth time, “yeah.”

“Gotta say, though” Billy grins as he turns, reaching for the doorknob, “we’re a _hell_ of a lot better now than we were in 6th grade.” The sound of Steve’s barked out laugh behind the shutting door eases the tightness of the rope that seems to have wrapped itself around Billy’s chest. 

Fuck, Hawkins, Indiana is gonna be the death of him.


	10. Pool Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Errand boy, pool boy, lost boy found.

On Monday Lyle drops Judy off at her job on his way to work, leaving her car keys on the counter next to a list of errands they need Billy to run that day. He picks up the paper and almost spits out his coffee when he sees the crisp hundred dollar bill lying underneath it. Just lying there, like an afterthought. 

“I’ll never understand these people,” he mumbles as he shoves the largest bill he’s ever held in his life into Jason’s wallet, which feels so much heavier now as it sits in his back pocket. 

The list is simple, or it would be if Billy had any idea where anything was in this town. He remembers Steve driving them past a grocery store, and there was a dry cleaners by the diner they’d ditched out of. 

Fuck, even _errands_ are making him think of Steve. 

He’d spent all of Saturday night and most of Sunday thinking about Steve. About the kiss, what it meant, what it _didn’t_ mean, if he should tell Jason, if he should just pretend it never happened. 

And he thought about his hands, how they’d gripped his neck, guiding gently but forcefully, how strong and big they felt on his ass. About his lips, his tongue, how when they’d pressed together he’d lit up inside like the Fourth of July.

Yeah, he’d spent a _lot_ of time Saturday night thinking about Steve.

On Sunday Steve had called, to apologize for freaking out, to make sure things between them were still good. BIlly had looked nervously to where Lyle was sipping coffee at the breakfast bar, eyes scanning lazily over the Sunday paper, and answered, _”Yeah man, nothing to- we’re good. We hanging out soon?”_ Lyle doesn’t stir at all at the words, eyes still roaming over the black and white text, and Steve’s tinny voice tells him he can’t today, has to do something with his dad, but call him tomorrow? And Billy had agreed and hung up before remembering _he doesn’t know Steve’s number_. 

And now it’s tomorrow, and Billy is backing out of the driveway in an Oldsmobile, an uncomfortable amount of money in his back pocket and a slip of paper riding copilot. He guesses on most of the turns, goes in circles a couple of times, but eventually ends up driving by and swinging into Bradley’s Big Buy. The building reminds him of the Lucky supermarket back home, small and brick with weekly deals plastered all over the windows. 

The dairy department is on the wrong side from what he’s used to, and it takes him about twenty minutes to find the rice, but he finally manages to get everything on the list, filling up two paper bags he has to shuffle around a bit in his arms in order to free a hand to get the trunk open. 

The car is sweltering by the time he gets in, and he might have made a mistake going to the grocery store first as he thinks of the gallon of milk sweating in the back. Still two more places to go. 

Fortunately, it looks like the dry cleaners is just down the street; Billy recognizes the road sign for the diner He and Steve had ditched out of last Wednesday. 

Fuck, it hasn’t even been a _week_. 

He’s turning into the shared parking lot, windows down and Metallica blasting, when he sees a group of girls by the entrance to the diner. He’s about to do his trademark wink and grin, but stops short as an almost familiar face pops out of the group. 

“Jason?”

“Jesus you live here or something?” Billy mumbles under his breath as he puts the car in park. Kim holds up an index finger at her friends and hurries down the sidewalk, pink sundress swishing around her legs in a way that probably would have made Jason weak-kneed. 

Billy gets out of the car, leaning against the door with an unimpressed look on his face. His hands automatically go for the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket, but come away empty, remembering he hasn’t had the chance to resupply since he got to Hawkins. He’ll have to swing back by the grocery store and buy a pack on his way home. 

“Jason!” Kim shouts as she gets closer, “you haven’t called me!” She stops in front of him, crossing her thin arms across her chest, and really? That’s how she wants to play it?

“Last I checked, you were plenty busy with… some other guy.” Fuck he would give anything for a cigarette right now. What was that fuckface’s name? 

“That- with Jared, that wasn’t anything. _Seriously_. We’d both been at the library and he suggested we grab a bite at the diner. He mostly wanted to talk about _you_.”

“What the hell for?”

“I don’t know, he just wanted to know some stuff, and then you showed up and I tried- you guys left so fast.”

“Yeah,” he sucks on his teeth a little and looks toward the dry cleaners, “cheaters aren’t really my style.”

“ _Jason!_ I didn’t- I never- what was I _supposed to do_ , stay locked up in my room until you came back? Because you just _had_ to prove how cool you are to-“

“Listen,” he cuts her off sharply, anger mounting at being harangued by this waif of a thing, “I don’t have time for this. I got groceries in the car and have to pick up shit for Lyle. Call me later if you want but I gotta go.” Kim’s face looks several shades of confused as Billy pushes off from the car and swaggers into the dry cleaner’s, all too aware of the six pairs of eyes watching him go. Hope the girls got a good show. 

+++++

The phone’s ringing as he walks into the house, and is still ringing as he sets the bags down on the counter. He eyes the milk warily as he picks up the receiver.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, how’re things going over there?” Billy pulls the phone away from his ear to look at it before tucking it between his ear and shoulder, grabbing the milk and heading toward the fridge.

“Man, you’re lucky it’s me who picked up.”

“I figured Mom and Dad would be at work. Aren’t they?”

“Oh… uh, yeah,” it had never crossed Billy’s mind that Lyle and Judy had regular work hours. With Neil in sales, he could be gone for a day to a full week, then home for the next month it seemed like. Susan’s job wasn’t much better, being a stenographer she could get called in for court cases or business meetings at random times, but was normally home in the evenings at least. Billy was never sure who would be around when he got home, if anyone. Which is how he got saddled with babysitting duty every other day. 

“So….” 

“So?”

“ _How’s it going_?” Jason repeats his initial question, slow, like Billy’s hard of hearing or dumb. The phone creaks in his grip. 

“ _Fine_ ,” he grinds out, putting the milk in the fridge and leaning his back against the smooth white door. “I haven’t fucked up your _perfect_ life.” Except, that’s not entirely true anymore, is it? Telling Kim off, kissing Steve, breaking a bunch of shit… maybe he hasn’t been playing it as cool as he’s supposed to be. “How’s Neil?” He jumps tracks instead, getting into the whole point of this stupid switch. 

“He’s, ah, he’s fine. Things have been okay.” Billy’s gut clenches, head swimming with the idea that it’s always been _him_ , then. _He’s_ the problem, the fuck up. 

“Great, that’s _great_. Glad you two are getting along so well.”

“I mean, it’s not _perfect_. He’s, there’s times-” there’s a long pause, to the point where Billy’s about to hang up, when Jason blurts out, “fuck man how do you _do_ this?”

“Do what?”

“ _This_! Living here, every day? I never- nothing I do is _right_ , and it’s like, _little stuff_ , like I didn’t put a cup in a sink, and then it’s because I put it in the sink but I didn’t _wash it_ , and then it’s ‘cause I washed my cup, dried it, put it away, but didn’t take care of _Susan’s cup_. It doesn’t end! I can’t- can’t win!”

“I tried to tell you, man,” Billy says, chewing on a thumbnail. “Has he, uh-”

“Couple times,” Jason answers before Billy can finish, “Nothing too bad, though. Good thing you prepped me, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah lucky you.” He spits out the sliver of nail he’d gnawed off. “You wanna, uh, you ready to switch back?” He’s surprised by the empty feeling in his gut as he says it. Despite having to navigate Neil’s anger, Emeryville is comfortable, familiar, _safe_ , no Steve Harringtons to throw his life into a tailspin.

No Steve Harrington. 

He shrugs off of the fridge and walks back over to where the grocery bags are sitting on the counter, trying to ignore the little tug he feels when he thinks of going back to a place where he’ll never see that floppy hair or ridiculous smile again. 

He’s so focused on thinking of Steve he almost misses Jason’s tinny voice saying, “not yet.” 

“What? Why you wanna stay? You meet someone?” 

“Nah, but hey, how’s, uh, how’s Kim?” Billy moves the phone to his left shoulder and starts pulling groceries out of the paper bag.

“Well, I kinda told her off. Like, twenty minutes ago.”

“ _Billy!_ ”

“Hey man, I did you a _favor_. You can’t be letting bitches treat you like that. Either she’ll come crawling back, or good fuckin’ riddence.”

“Shit, Billy, can you just- I really like this girl. I don’t want to lose her. _Please_.” 

“God, fine, you wanna be pussy-whipped, I’ll go and apologize.” He was definitely _not_ apologizing. 

“ _Thank you_. Anything else happen? Stuff I should know about?” Billy’s mouth goes dry.

“Uh, yeeeeeah, Saturday, at, uh, at Harrington’s party-”

“Did Mrs. Harrington grab your ass?” Billy stands up straight. 

“Oh! Uh, yeah, fuck, is that _normal_? You tapping that?”

“Geezus Billy, _no_! But, ummm, yeah, she gets a little handsy, especially when she’s had a drink or five. Embarrasses the hell out of Steve. Shit, how’s he?” 

“Ah, good,” his cheeks have the audacity to get warm, “good, he actually wanted me to call him, you got his number?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s-”

“Hold on! Lemme find a pen,” he scrounges around the kitchen until he comes up with a pencil and a small pad of paper, “Okay, shoot.” Jason rattles off Steve’s number, as well as Tommy’s, Kim’s, and their favorite pizza place. 

“Man, we really didn’t think this stuff through, did we?” Jason asks after getting a few key numbers from Billy as well. No friends, but the video store he worked at one summer that his dad makes him call from time to time to see if certain movies are in, and the arcade, memorized after having to call after Max too many times. 

“Not really a manual for this shit.” Billy points out, reading and re-reading Steve’s number until it’s burned into his memory. 

“ _Insert twenty five cents to continue._ ” 

“Shit, time’s up. Try not to ruin any more of my personal relationships while you’re there.”

“Yeah fuck you, don’t get clocked.” He hears the click of the receiver and sets his phone back on the cradle, looking at the pile of groceries still waiting to be put away, the leftover change heavy in his pocket. He can’t fathom why Jason would want to stay under Neil’s roof when he has all this waiting for him here. Figured he’d be begging him to switch back days ago. 

“He can have it,” he mutters, putting the rest of the food away before pouring out a bowl of cereal and thinking about when he should call Steve. 

 

++++++

“Hey man! Glad you called, was getting nervous there for a minute.” Billy’s lying sideways across the bed, legs dangling and eyes swooping along the fish-scale texture of the ceiling. 

“Nervous? Why?” 

“Nothing, just, ball was in your court, and, anyway, I’m just glad you called.”

“Yeah. no problem. So what’s going on?” Billy’s itching to get back out of the house, “We doing anything?”

“Were you serious about wanting to try swimming? It’s a hot one today, perfect for it.” Billy closes his eyes, thanking God and all the angels for this moment in time. 

“Yeah man, let’s do it. I can be over there in twenty.”

“You want me to come get you?”

“Nah, got my mom’s car.” The word ‘mom’ is still so foreign on his tongue, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to saying it. 

Good thing he doesn’t have to. 

“You’re sure? I can run over, we can grab a pizza on the way back, got some beers leftover from the party.” Billy thinks about it, getting those extra minutes with Steve, and really, who’s he to turn down a free pizza? 

“Sounds good. Lemme grab some trunks.”

“Cool, see you in ten.”

 

He tears apart the room looking for some semblance of swimwear, but it seems like Jason stuck to his guns on the ‘no swimming ever’ front. He finds a ratty old pair at the back of his bottom drawer, probably the ones he wore in middle school, and no way are Billy’s thighs fitting in that thing. 

He looks down at his boxers - navy blue - and wonders if he could get away with it. Not like they’re going to a public pool or anything. 

“Eh, fuck it.” 

++++++

Billy is balancing the pizza box on his knees as they pull into the nearly empty two-car garage, the heat of the pizza seeping through his jeans. 

“Eat first or swim first?” Steve asks, turning off the car and opening the door. 

“You’re not supposed to swim after you eat, you’ll cramp.” Billy huffs as he uses his legs to propel himself out of the car while still carrying the oversized box. He looks back to see Steve grinning at him, arms resting on his still-open door.

“Didn’t know you were so into swimming culture?”

“That’s, like, basic facts, Harrington. _Everyone_ knows you’re supposed to wait an hour after you eat to swim.” At least everyone in _Cali_ knew that, cause everyone in Cali swam. There were like, PSAs on it. Susan was super strict about it, would set a timer and everything, couldn’t let her precious Maxine suffer a cramp. 

“Well, I mean I don’t know about you, but _I_ wasn’t really planning on doing laps. But don’t let me stop you…” He’s grinning again, a smug little thing that Billy wants to smack off of him. Or kiss off of him. It’s a confusing time. 

“Fuck off, go get me a beer,” Billy says, elbowing past him to get to the door, Steve chuckling and following him into the house. 

The place is somehow less imposing without all the food and hubbub of a party, though it’s still unnervingly clean. 

“Parents around?” He asks, sliding the pizza onto the island counter and hoisting himself up next to it. Steve turns from the fridge, bumping the door shut with his ass, a beer in each hand. 

“Nah, had a big, _big_ meeting in Pittsburgh, took off last night,” he says, cracking open the bottles with a satisfying hiss, “but not before giving me a good talking to.”

“Was that what that thing with your dad was?” Billy asks, accepting the bottle and taking a swig, eyes never leaving Steve. 

“Yup, to fucking up college before I even get there,” Steve reaches over and clinks their bottles together before taking a long drink, nearly draining the thing before coming up for a breath. 

Billy wishes he could ask so many questions: _Where are you going? Have you been accepted already? What’d you write your essay on?_ But has no idea if this is stuff Jason would already know, or would even _want_ to know. So instead he nods, drinking in solidarity and flipping open the pizza box. 

When they’re both three slices in Steve stands up and stretches, pulling his shirt over his head and getting them each another beer from the fridge. 

“So we actually swimming today?”

“Still my plan,” Billy says, accepting the beer. God damn but he could get used to this. 

“You sure? It’s okay if you want to pussy out. I mean we _did_ just eat.”

“Hey fuck you.” He climbs up from his place on the floor next to the couch, tugging his own shirt off and flinging it across the room, “m’not a pussy.”

“You’re not kidding, holy shit.” Steve’s eyes are unabashedly roving over his torso, “I am seriously, _seriously_ getting tossed into juvie next summer.”

“Man, it’s not worth it, and you look-” he pauses, trying to think of the least gay way to tell a male friend he looks sexy as hell. But nothing is coming to mind, and Steve looks like he’s seriously waiting for the end of that sentence, so instead Billy kicks off his jeans and says, “-way too dry. C’mon, let’s get in the water.” 

 

“Y’know, I’m really proud of you, man,” Steve says as he pushes open the sliding glass door, “didn’t think you’d ever be ready to be in the water again.” Billy’s surprised when Steve calmly walks over and sits on the edge of the pool, easing himself into the water, rather than doing some kind of cannonball or fancy show-off dive he undoubtedly knows how to do. Instead he slips in with barely a ripple, and when he turns and smiles it hits Billy, he’s doing all this for him. For Jason, and the trauma he went through. 

Dammit, he’s a _good guy_.

It’s also a stark reminder of who he’s supposed to be in this scenario, and Billy follows suit, slowly and carefully sliding into the water, suppressing a shiver as Steve reaches over and rests a hand on his arm.

“You good?”

“Yeah, yeah, this is good. Feels good.” He tries not to think about the fact that Steve’s still touching him, that they’re barely wearing clothes, that they’re both two and a half beers in and the sun is on its way down. Instead he closes his eyes and focuses on the water, warmer than he normally likes, but still a relief from the summer heat, the weightlessness a familiar comfort. He takes a few more steps, letting Steve gently guide him into the middle.

“Cramping yet?” Billy opens his eyes and splashes at Steve, whose face is pulled into an irresistible grin as he ducks, his hair taking the brunt of the assault. 

“Fuck off, pretty boy.” 

“ _Pretty boy_? You still on that?”

“Why would I be off it?” Billy squats down, relishing the feel of the water slowly enveloping his chest, his shoulders. 

“Cause have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re _way_ prettier than me.”

“Don’t make me have to tell you how hot you are, Harrington.” He dips in deeper, collecting water in his open mouth before spitting it at Steve. The chlorine tastes poisonous on his tongue, but it’s worth it to see Steve sputter and laugh, shaking droplets out of his hair. 

“Hey! Geez, where’s the kid who was afraid to take a _bath_ for four years?”

“Left him at that camp,” Billy says, pushing off the bottom of the pool with his legs and floating backwards, arms out like Jesus on the crucifix. The sky is turning a pretty shade of blue and pink, sun so low he can’t see it past the treeline at the edge of the property. 

After a few moments he feels Steve’s fingers wrap around his left ankle, tugging softly. Billy raises his head a little, cocking an eyebrow as he’s pulled gently through the water. 

“Didn’t want you to hit the wall,” Steve reasons, hand still holding onto Billy. In the cooling evening air his fingers burn like a brand on his skin. Billy’s afraid to move, afraid to _breathe_.

“You, uh, you wanna listen to some music?” Steve asks, finally taking his hand off of Billy’s leg. 

“You bring your boombox down?” 

“No.”

“You gonna leave me here to go get it?” 

“...no.”

They’re barely a breath away from each other now, the easy movement of the water pulling them together. Without thinking Billy reaches out and swipes across Steve’s upper cheek with his thumb, brushing off a couple of droplets that were trickling slowly down his skin, mimicking tears. Steve’s eyes widen, looking even bigger with his lashes darkened by the water.

“Jas-“ Billy covers his mouth before he can finish, fingers sliding over his lips down to his chin, tucking underneath and pulling him in until their mouths are pressed together. Tonight. He can have tonight. 

Steve gasps, hands grabbing at his bare shoulders before one climbs up to his hair, grown out just enough to grab at, tug a little. Billy groans at the sensation, pressing in closer, thigh slotting easily between Steve’s legs, feeling the hardness there, feeling it getting harder. 

“So good,” he moans out, Steve riding his thigh like he was born for it. 

“Mmm, yeah, Jas-“

“Shhhhh,” Billy cuts him off again with his mouth, which works for about fifteen seconds before Steve breaks away. 

“Why can’t I talk, asshole?” He grips his hair a little harder, and dammit, Billy’s body responds, arching up, eyes closing automatically. “You imagining someone else?”

“Fuck no,” Billy answers, blinking the water out of his eyes, looking up at Steve, and he must see something he likes, licking his lips and pulling Billy’s head back a little further. 

“You sure?” He grinds down, hard dick up against Billy’s thigh. “You do this with your camp friends?”

“ _God_ ,” Billy moans, grabbing at Steve’s hips and tugging him closer, angling him so their barely covered cocks are brushing against each other. The sensation is as foreign as it is amazing, the sounds spilling out of Steve’s mouth more addicting than nicotine. 

“Holy shit, m’close,” Steve slurs, nose and lips brushing up against the side of Billy’s face as he gyrates, chasing the friction of their bodies rubbing against each other. 

“Do it.” Billy doesn’t care how awkward it’s going to be to explain this to Jason later, the only thing that matters in this entire world is seeing Steve Harrington come, _making_ Steve Harrington come. He looks up at his face: mouth slack, eyelids heavy, neck muscles strained as he speeds up his movements, thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his orgasm.

It’s the hottest thing Billy’s ever seen in his life. 

“Oh _fuuuuck_ ,” Steve groans out, hips jerking, pulsing with release as Billy grabs at him, wanting to feel every part of him as he shudders through his orgasm. However he’s shocked into stillness as Steve leans in, kissing the moan right out of his mouth as his hand slips beneath his boxers, bringing him off with a couple of rough tugs. 

They stand there, panting into each other’s mouths, bathed in darkness and the glowing light coming from the edge of the pool. 

“Well,” Billy mutters, eyes skating over Steve’s face, “I am definitely not afraid of the water anymore.”

Somehow, Steve’s laugh sounds just as good as his moans.

 

++++++

 

By the time Billy gets back to the house it’s well past 10, most of the windows are dark, but the porch light is still on. He’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. 

He lets himself in, walking a little warily into the kitchen, where the light is coming from. Judy is sitting primly at the counter, one hand resting gently on the handle of a mug while the other supports a novel with a heavily creased spine. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he ventures, taking a seat at the far end of the counter. Judy looks up at him, eyes kind, a soft smile just barely gracing her face. 

“That’s fine, just leave a note next time letting us know where you are.”

“Yeah, yeah, I was at Steve’s.”

“I figured,” she smiles and goes back to her book, taking a sip from the mug and grimacing a little.

“Billy honey, will you hand me the sugar?”

“Sure,” Billy grunts, grabbing the porcelain sugar bowl and and passing it over before fully processing what he’d actually heard. What he’d responded to without a second thought. He turns and looks at Judy, who is staring at him, eyes glassy and mouth open, hand hovering just ahead of her. 

“Billy?” He closes his eyes and nods, the tenuous hold he’d had on this world shattering all around him. She’s going to kick him out, demand to have her son back, make him repay all the food he’d eaten-

His train of thought stops in its tracks as he is pulled into the tightest hug he’s ever felt in his life.


	11. Gina Hargrove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long overdue talk happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than normal, and VERY dialogue/feelings heavy. Sorry if it is hard to read, it was hard to write, and I promise there will be more levity in the next chapter. And if not then then the next next chapter. 
> 
> Also warning for brief mentions of child abuse and internalized homophobia

Judy is holding onto him like she’s afraid he’ll disappear if she lets go. He can feel her smaller form tremor slightly, fingers gripped tight into his shirt, only to relax and grip again. 

“Hey,” he says, voice soft, hands coming up to rest on her upper back, “it’s okay.” He’s not sure if it is, actually, but that’s what you’re supposed to say when someone cries on you, right? She grips and shakes for another thirty seconds before tilting her face up to look at him. 

“I never-” her voice breaks with another sob, “I never thought I’d see you again!”

Again?

“When... did you see me… before?” His body goes lax as Judy pulls away, wiping her eyes on the terry cloth sleeve of her bathrobe before reaching for a tissue and blowing her nose. 

“I was there when you were born,” she says more into the tissue than to Billy, eyes cast down, “Neil’d been out on a sales call, and your mom went into labor early. At the time I lived close by, and I got to help bring you and Jason into the world.” She finally looks up, her eyes misty, nose red from being blown, “You were _perfect_ , and Gina, your mom, _god_ , she loved you. Never saw her happier than when she had both of you in her arms.”

Billy absently wipes at the wetness on his cheek, not even realizing he’d been crying. 

“And then, when she got sick… how much of this do you know?” 

Billy knew part of the story. He knew his mother had been sick, passed away when he was young, so young he couldn’t remember her face or her voice, just a feeling in his chest of what it might have been like to love her. 

“I know-” his voice is scratchy, like he’d just woken up, “I know she was sick, had leukemia. Dad said I wore the life right out of her.” Judy balks at that, jaw dropping, and Billy again thinks he messed up, basically admitting to having a hand in killing this woman’s sister. 

“Oh that _man_ , I can’t… honey, you made her life _worth living_. Gina... even when we _were_ kids, she wanted kids. Never shut up about it. I think,” she takes in a shuddering breath, closes the robe a little tighter around her, “I think she somehow knew she wasn’t going to live a long life. Married Neil just as soon as she could, and was over the moon when she found out she was pregnant not long after.” 

He hadn’t known any of that. They never talked about Billy’s mom, about what life had been like with her. With Neil it seemed to always be about what Billy had done wrong. When he was four he got spanked for leaving his bed too many times during the night. When he was seven he got slapped in the face for spilling glue all over the table while trying to make a Father’s Day card, and when he was fourteen he got suckerpunched in the gut for looking too intensely at a sleekly muscled boy on the beach. 

Billy doesn’t remember doing much _right_. 

“Do you maybe want to move to the living room? More comfortable there. Or, or do you need something to eat? Drink?” _Shit_ , he could definitely use a drink, though he’s sure that’s not what Judy means. He rubs a hand over his face, palm digging into his right eye until he sees spots. 

“Do you need to sleep? It’s late, you can sleep on this, and we can- I’ll take tomorrow off and we can talk. Whatever you want, Billy.”

 _Billy_. Hearing his name again makes something in his chest loosen.

“No, let’s- I want to hear it. I need to know.” Judy nods, picking up her mug and padding into the living room on slippered feet, settling on the far end of the couch. Billy follows, shoulders tense, and takes a seat on the edge of the overstuffed easy chair so he’s facing Judy. 

“About a year after you boys were born, your mother got very sick. So sick she knew she couldn’t take care of the two of you like she wanted to. So she asked me to come and help out.” She wraps both her hands around the mug, fidgeting that way adults do when they don’t want to tell you something. 

“Neil... didn’t like that. I was only there three days before he told me I had to go. I don’t think he liked me seeing… her illness was really hard on him.”

“Yeah no shit,” Billy says reflexively, making Judy flinch just a bit. And yeah, that’s right. Now that the Jason mask is off, she’ll get to see who he really is: an angry, foul-mouthed, good-for-nothing who causes problems and takes up space. 

“Billy, we don’t have to-”

“Yes we do!” He shouts, knocking a coaster off of the end table between them. Judy watches with big eyes as it skips across the carpet, settling just in front of the TV stand. Billy waits, for Lyle to come pounding down the stairs, for Judy to start crying and run from him, but neither happens. Instead Judy sets the mug down directly onto the wooden end table and leans forward, hands clasped on her knees, a determined set to her face. 

“You’re right. And I won’t make excuses. Your father scared me, and, I loved my sister, and wanted to be there for her, but I wasn’t about to cross that man. So I did what I was told, and packed my things.” She stops, looking down at her hands, knuckles turning white, before continuing. “A week later he called me, and I figured he was going to apologize and ask me to come back, but, he had wanted me to take one of the twins.” Her thumbs cross over each other in a repetitive motion, “And I should have said no. I should have demanded he let me stay at the house, help my sister, help with you two, god, help _him_... but,” she finally looks up at Billy, eyes shining, “I was too eager to please. And I’d promised Gina I’d help in any way I could. So the next week I flew back to California, and, and I _thought_ , I thought maybe by then Neil would have cooled down, maybe even found his groove and would want the family together, just let me stay in the nursery with you boys for awhile, but…” she unclasps her hands and rubs them on her knees, “he pretty much met me at the door with a baby and a diaper bag and that was that. Said he’d call when I could bring him home.”

Billy sits stock-still, trying to process everything she’d told him. On the whim of a man who didn’t know how to be a father, he’d lost his brother. Lost him before he ever really knew him. And Neil had _kept_ Billy for... what? 

“Why…” Billy starts, wets his lips, “why Jason?”

“I… I don’t know. He didn’t even let me in to see Gina, just handed-“

“This is bullshit!” Billy pushes himself off of the chair, pacing the room. Judy follows with her eyes but doesn’t try to calm him down. “Did he just, what? Grab whatever kid was closest? No- no thought behind it? Why the hell even keep one?”

“Billy-”

“I mean, maybe if I had been playing with, with _trucks_ in front of the door instead of, of whatever the _fuck_ I was doing, I could have grown up with this,” he spreads his arms and spins on his heel, “had a decent fucking life. Maybe coulda actually grown into someone worth-“

“Billy!” He stops, looking at Judy as though he’d forgotten she was there. She’s standing now, legs still backed against the couch, arms crossed defensively across her chest. His eyes narrow. 

“Did you ever wonder about me? Did you even _care_?” He asks, eyes accusing as they bore into her. She stands firm, meeting his harsh gaze, though he can see her eyes getting glassy, shining with unshed tears. 

“You have to understand-”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything-”

“Then _please_ understand,” and surprisingly, that shuts him up. _Please_ is not a word often heard in the Hargrove household, or at least not from the head of it. Judy waits him out for about ten seconds before starting up again. 

“When I took Jason, he was, god, _inconsolable_. Cried day and night, and I knew he was crying for you. I tried to reason with Neil, make him listen, but-”

“No one tells Neil what to do,” Billy finishes for her, falling back into the easy chair, running a hand through his still too-short hair. Judy nods, lowering herself back onto her place on the couch.

“I guess you’d know better than anyone what it’s like to live with him,” she says softly. It’s another minute or so before she continues, “We had Jason for eight months before Gina passed away. Neil wouldn’t let us visit, barely took my calls, and then, when it happened, said she would be cremated,” she stops to wipe her face, “and there would be no funeral. I offered to pay for the services, the coffin, anything, _everything_ , but he was- he was Neil. And then said it would be best if we just- just kept Jason.

“And- and I was _excited_. When he said that, I felt such _relief_ , that the baby I had grown to love as my own for the past year would get to stay with me, that I wouldn’t have to give him back. But then, I thought of you. My missing boy.

“I’d asked Neil about you, if he maybe wanted me to take you, too; tried to figure out a way to say it that made it sound like it was _his_ idea.” She pauses, tears coming to her eyes, covering her hand with her mouth for a moment before her next words come out, stilted and watery, “But I was too eager, pushed too much, and he took it as a slight against him, said ‘a man can raise his own son,’ and hung up on me. And kept hanging up on me. Until one day, someone new picked up the phone, and- and that’s when I knew I’d lost you.

“I was- it was like a nightmare come to life. Not knowing where you were, not knowing how to find you. It felt, it felt like a part of my heart was missing. First Gina died, and then you were _gone_ , and there was nothing I could do about it. 

“I wanted to hire a private detective to find you, but our lawyer warned against it. Said we could lose Jason, since we technically had no legal rights over him. No paperwork, no record of adoption. Neil could claim kidnapping, and we’d have _nothing_ to prove him wrong.” She pauses, “but it didn’t keep me from thinking about you, hoping you were okay, praying for you every night. My sweet Billy boy,” she reaches out a hand before pulling it back. “You were always a cuddler, did you know that? Even when you were just new, we’d put you boys down, and come back to find Jason hadn’t moved, but you’d be snuggled up right next to him. You couldn’t even roll over yet and you still somehow figured that out.”

Billy rubs at his cheek, feeling it getting warm under this new scrutiny. And maybe scrutiny isn’t the right word, but that’s what it _feels_ like, like Judy’s looking into his soul, into the parts of him he’s tried to push down and trample into nothing, the parts his dad would call out, say made him act like a faggot. 

“I-” he starts, and stops, voice hoarse like he hadn’t used it for a year. And maybe he hadn’t. Judy couldn’t have been talking for longer than fifteen minutes but it felt like a whole lifetime had passed. “I didn’t know that. Any of that.” God he wants a cigarette. “Did you really want to find me?”

“More than _anything_.” Billy’s not sure if he believes her, but he wants to. He wants to think someone was thinking about him, missing him, wanting him, every time his dad yelled or raised a hand to him. But, maybe if she knew…

“Even,” he takes a shuddering breath, thinking about Steve’s smile, how his heart picks up whenever he sees it, “even if I’m not... normal?”

“What do you mean?”

“I-”...but he can’t do it. He can’t chance losing the one person who might actually give a shit about him, _him_ , Billy, by admitting he can only get it up with guys. That he’s a _queer_. “- I think I need to go to bed.” 

“...of course. Yes, you should, but, Billy,” he pauses as he stands, whole body feeling heavy as he looks where Judy is still sitting, hands clasped on her knees, “I really need you to know, no matter _what_ , I’m glad you’re here.” His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth, doesn’t trust the dryness in his throat, so he just nods, trying to swallow as he turns for the stairs. He steadily makes his way up to Jason’s room, aware of Judy’s eyes still on him, watching, cataloguing everything about him that’s different from Jason. He shouldn’t have said anything. 

A part of him hopes he’ll wake up back in Emeryville and find out all of this has just been some crazy fever dream. 

Or maybe he just won’t wake up at all.

But he knows he’s not that lucky.


	12. Lost Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, sorry friends!
> 
> Nothing much to say here except thank you so much for the love you all have shown this fic! Literally nothing has made my heart happier these past few months, and even if I don't always respond back to comments please know they are a life source and I adore each one! Y'all are the best!

The next morning Billy wakes up in waves, each time forcing himself to sleep a little bit longer. He doesn’t want to face the day, face Judy, find out what Lyle knows, if he knows yet. But by noon he knows he can’t put it off anymore, and the rumble in his stomach and the smell of bacon help him to push himself off of the bed. 

Judy’s at the stove, moving the bacon around, and he can see some bread and condiments pulled out. Two plates. He starts to feel a little disgruntled before he remembers it’s Tuesday, Lyle is at work, and the other plate is meant for him. 

“Hey,” he grunts, making her jump a little before turning around. He sees the bags under her eyes and knows he’s not the only one who slept like shit last night. 

“Hey Billy, you hungry? I didn’t, I couldn’t tell if you got some breakfast so I figured, BLTs, best of both worlds.” Billy nods wordlessly, hovering for a minute before he moves to the cutting board and begins slicing the tomato sitting there. He worries for a moment that he’s making them too thick, but shakes the thought out of his head and places the cutting board next to the plates. Judy smiles up at him and jutts an elbow toward the bread bag.

“Would you mind popping some in the toaster?” He nods again, pulling out four slices and taking them over to where the toaster sits. 

“How dark?” He asks, ‘cause you can always cut off some tomato, but you can’t untoast bread. 

“I’m a medium myself. Lyle, he likes it practically burnt black, and Jason, he never really had the patience to wait. It’d barely be in the toaster before he was popping it back up and shoving it in his mouth.” 

Billy nods again, adjusting the setting slightly and putting the slices of bread in the slots. The wires inside glow orange and he backs away, looking for something else to do. 

“Want to grab some sodas from the fridge?” He notices that Judy always phrases her requests as a question. Susan would do that, too, like he would ever have the nerve to say no. Neil never requested. There was never a lilt at the end of his voice, or any room to argue. You were to do it and do it then and do it _right_. 

“Sure. Coke?” Judy nods and he pulls two cans from the refrigerator and takes them over to the counter. The toast pops up, and before he can make a move Judy is pulling them out and slathering them with mayo, piling on the lettuce, tomato, and bacon. Even sticks toothpicks in them to keep the individual pieces from sliding around.

They eat in silence, Billy’s eyes glancing around the kitchen, out the window, trying to understand his place here now that Judy knows. 

Speaking of…

“Hey,” he says around a mouthful, then pauses to swallow before continuing, “how did- what gave me away? How’d you know I wasn’t Jason?” Judy wipes her mouth, hiding her smile behind her napkin for a second before meeting his eye. 

“I had an inkling that first morning, with the coffee. You didn’t like the taste, and then you cleaned up after yourself. Without any reminder. We’d have to get on Jason two, three times for him to remember to take care of his own things.” 

Billy could punch himself. He should have known, he’d had to shout at Jason more than a few times to take up his tray, put his clothes away, all the things Neil had drilled into him since he could stand.

“Then I tested my theory, when you were talking about swimming-”

“Yeah, yeah the quarry trap. Figured that one out after talking with Jason.” And apparently that’s the key phrase. Judy’s entire face lights up, and Billy can’t help but feel the knot in his stomach returning.

“You’ve talked with him? How is he? Is everything okay? Is Neil treating him well? Does he know he’s Jason?” Billy does his best not to shut down at the onslaught of questions. Reminds himself that Judy is just a mother worried for her son, and rightfully so, him being half a country away, under the roof of a man she herself confessed to being afraid of. 

Tries to remember she can love Jason and still have room to possibly love Billy, too. 

“He’s fine. Neil is… Neil, but he’s, he’s handling it.” He takes a swig of his Coke, pretends it’s beer, before continuing, “You know, this whole thing was his idea. Once he found out his dad was still alive- which, that was some fucked up shit to tell a kid, that his dad was dead-”

“I know, I know, I regretted it the moment I said it,” Judy rests her forehead against her hand, staring at the swirls in the countertop, “I just, didn’t want to face the idea of possibly losing him, and, _shit_ , it was easier than trying to explain to a seven year old that his own father just, didn’t want him.” And _shit_ , Billy’d been so hung up on the idea of fancy-pants Judy choosing Jason over him, he never thought about the idea of Neil literally just handing a kid off, never to see him again. The feeling of abandonment Jason must have felt when he found out. It’s probably why he’s not ready to leave California yet. 

“You know, I thought I had a fucked up family _before_ all of this,” he says, taking a bite out of his sandwich, ignoring the feeling of something wet trickling down his cheek. Judy reaches out slowly, covering his hand with hers, and gripping gently when he doesn’t pull away.

“I am so, _so_ sorry for what’s happened. To both of you. Neither of you- you were just innocent babies put into impossible situations.” Billy closes his hand, taking Judy’s fingers into a light squeeze, and looks at the tears in her eyes. 

“Do you want to call Jason?” She sobs once into her napkin, and nods. 

++++++

They come up with a ruse, Judy disguising her voice slightly, asking to talk to ‘Billy Hargrove’ about a job application he put in at the grocery store. Billy doesn’t think Neil would be able to recognize her voice from so long ago, but she’s not willing to take any chances. 

Billy’s gut is in knots as he waits next to Judy, her hand shaking as she holds the phone up to her ear. He can hear the muffled ringing once, twice, three times, when it’s picked up. He can’t hear who’s talking, but Judy’s shoulders relax, so he’s going to guess it’s not Neil.

“Hello, I’m calling for Billy Hargrove, I have a-” she stops and pulls the phone from her ear a little, and Billy can can literally hear Max’s voice shouting just inches from the receiver. He rubs his temples, knowing he would get such a whooping if he’d pulled shit like that as a kid. But it’s a good indicator that Neil’s out of the house. As feral as she is, Max knows not to shout or talk back when he’s around. 

Suddenly Judy’s shoving the phone into his hands, eyes pleading with him. He cocks an eyebrow but takes the phone, getting it up to his ear just in time to hear Jason ask “Hello?”

“Hey, man, it’s Billy, how’s it-”

“Oh my god I can’t _believe_ you called the house! Neil like _just_ left, if he’d have heard you-”

“Don’t worry about it, I had some help,” he nudges the phone back to Judy, who takes it with shaking hands and watery eyes.

“Jason? Honey?” She only gets those two words out before she’s bursting into tears. Billy shifts his stance a bit, looking over to the relative safety of the living room, avoiding Judy’s eyes. He’s never known what to do with a crying woman, never been invested enough to really care. But Judy, he wants to care about her. Might be starting to already. So he stays, a solid form by her side, waiting out the crying, hoping Jason’s not standing by a window if he’s crying, too. He doesn’t need that kind of shit in his life. 

After a few blubbery moments he feels a hand on his arm, Judy’s slim fingers wrapping around his wrist as he hears her say, “I am so sorry, baby, I never wanted- it’s okay. I just- I know, _I know_.” She pauses for a few moments, listening intently, then gets a small smile on her face. “He’s been great,” she glances over at Billy and squeezes his wrist sweetly, “I’m so proud of you both, and, yes, I know, we have a _lot_ to talk about. How are you doing? Are you okay?” She’s quiet again for a few moments, nodding, and finally lets go of Billy’s arm to wipe at the tear tracks on her face. 

“You let me know the _minute_ you want to come home, okay? I’ll send you a ticket.” 

The words send a strike into Billy’s heart, like a sharp stab reminding him that he’s not the one that belongs here. He has a sudden need to run, to get out of the house, away from Judy and her soft touch and softer words. None of it’s going to matter when he’s back in California. 

She turns to dig into the junk drawer underneath the cradle of the phone, and Billy takes the chance to slip out of the kitchen, snag some shoes and run out the door. He thinks he might hear Judy shout as the door shuts behind him, but he doesn’t stop to check. He’s halfway down the street before he even stops to put on the stupid Nikes he’d grabbed, and then he just runs faster. 

He runs until he feels like his lungs are going to burst, and then pushes a little bit further, until he can’t think about anything but his burning need for air. He collapses against a tree, taking in deep lungfuls, vision swimming and legs shaky as he tries to take a step forward and nearly trips on a root. It’s only then that he realizes he’d left the neighborhood entirely, followed a half-thought-out path into the woods. He can’t even see any houses anymore, just trees on trees.

He turns around, but there’s no footpath, nothing to indicate a better way to go, to get himself back. Geezus. He takes another breath and leans his back against the tree, allowing his heart rate to calm down before he starts freaking out about his new predicament. 

The snap of a branch behind him makes that impossible, though, as his adrenaline surges and he flips himself around, sure there’s a bear or a mountain lion or some bullshit Indiana equivalent ready to devour him, really put a cherry on the top of this perfect day. 

But it’s just a girl, and, if he’s honest, that’s way creepier. There’s no one else with her, no bike, no bag, nothing but this curly-headed twig of a thing looking at him with big eyes. 

“Hey! You real?” He calls out to her, still halfway behind the tree. Not that he’s hiding, he just needs the support, heart still rabbiting ridiculously in his chest.

“Lost,” she responds, voice somehow loud and soft at the same time. He looks her up and down, taking in her clean clothes and face, hair free of debris, nothing like when he and Jason had been tromping through the woods in San Antonio. Probably just got separated from whatever outdoorsy group she’d been with. 

“Yeah, well, can’t help you, kid,” he finally straightens up, checks behind him again in the hope that some kind of path has illuminated itself. Nothing. He turns back around and nearly jumps out of his skin at seeing the girl now standing directly in front of him. 

“FUCK! Don’t fucking _do that_!” He wheezes out, hand over his heart, feeling the rapid beating through his shirt. To her credit she doesn’t flinch at all, giant brown eyes continuing to bore holes into him. 

“Lost,” she says again, this time pointing up at him. He resists the urge to smack her hand away.

“Yeah, yeah, ya got me. So you know the way outta here or what?”

“Not _here_ , lost _in here_ ,” she says again, moving her pointer finger to the center of her own forehead, then pointing back to his. And shit, maybe he ran so hard he had a brain aneurysm, or stumbled into some Stephen King bullshit, but the sudden zing of electricity he feels travel up his spine makes him break out into goosebumps, and he regrets ever leaving the house. Ever leaving _California_. He takes a couple steps back, keeping his eyes on the girl. 

“Don’t- don’t do, whatever it is you’re doing,” he says, slapping a hand over his forehead, as though that would keep tiny Carrie White from getting into his head. 

“You can trust her. And... you’ll be found.” She gives a little smile, just a quirk of the lip, really, before turning and walking away. Billy drops his hand, watching as she meanders through the woods, and wonders for a second if he should go after her. She seems about Max’s age, maybe a little younger, and creepy or not, she probably shouldn’t be wandering around the woods alone. He gives a cursory glance behind him, and is startled to see a clearly defined path leading back out of the trees, has no idea how he could have missed it the first few times. But when he turns back to shout to the girl, she’s already out of sight. 

 

++++++

 

He takes his time walking back to the house, thinking about what the girl had said. Assuming it actually _was_ a girl and not just some hallucination from his oxygen deprived brain. He’s pretty sure the _her_ he’s supposed to trust is Judy; sure as hell’s not _Kim_ , or even Susan, who’d bore witness to Neil tossing Billy around more than a couple times, but never said a word about it. Not that he could really blame her, a hundred pounds soaking wet, what could she do? 

He strips a twig of its leaves as he passes, letting the green pieces fall casually from his hand as he continues to walk. _Trust her. You’ll be found._ He’ll be _found_? He flicks the last leaf from his hand, watching it flutter to the ground. He’s not sure he _wants_ to be found. Secrets are secrets for a reason. Secrets keep people alive. Even with everything he and Steve have done, he _knows_ neither one would claim it. It’s just some fun, letting off some steam, something to do in the downtime between bitches. 

He snaps off another twig. 

It’s about ten more minutes of walking before he realizes he has literally no idea where he is. Must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Not that at this point he’d know a right turn from a wrong one. _Fuck_ he needs a cigarette. 

He must have been wondering for longer than he’d thought as he watches the sun start dipping behind the trees. He’d figured as long as he kept walking he’d end up around the house at some point -the town’s not THAT big- but in the dark… he really could be out here all night. 

The idea of hitchhiking pops into his head. He’d done it a few times in Cali to get around, most notably to a Black Flag concert in San Francisco, and always made it out alive, so Snoozeville, Indiana should be safe enough. Besides the fact he hasn’t seen a person yet he doesn’t think he could take in a fight. 

It’s not too long before a pair of headlights cut through the waning evening light, and Billy doesn’t even have time to get his thumb out before the lights are flashing at him, the car rolling up alongside him to an easy stop. And fuck it all, Billy can’t help the little flutter in his gut when he recognizes the burgundy BMW. 

“Hey! What’cha doing all the way over on Old Cherry?” Steve asks through the passenger side window, pushing the door open. Billy shrugs, wiping his hands on his pants before climbing into the car. Steve looks at him for a moment before putting the car back into drive. “Everything okay at home?” He asks softly after a minute of silent driving. Billy rolls his head against the window, tries to block out the anger at hearing those words addressing him now, _now_ of all times. 

“Why’re you even out here, man?” 

“Your mom called-” Billy cuts him off with a groan, covering his face with both hands.

“She’s not my _mom_ ,” he nearly shouts, fingers digging into his temples.

“I mean, I know she’s really your aunt, but-”

“You don’t know _anything_ ,” he drawls, dropping both hands into his lap, banging the back of his head against the headrest. The car suddenly jerks to a stop, and Billy actually has to fling his arms out so he doesn’t slam against the dashboard. He shoots a surprised look at Steve, who’s already glaring daggers back at him. 

“Okay, what the hell, man? You’ve been weird ever since you got back from that camp. What _happened_?” Steve’s fully facing him now, parked practically in the middle of the damn road, and Billy has to tamp down on his fight or flight instinct. The last time Neil had gotten mad enough to stop the car mid-drive he’d been twelve, and was grabbed by the shoulder and slapped in the face so hard his ears rang for days after. 

But this isn’t Neil. The brown eyes looking at him are wide and scared, maybe even worried, but not angry. Not anything like the piercing cold of Neil’s stare. But they’re also not looking at _him_. Not really. 

“Maybe I never came back, huh?” He scrubs at his cheek, looking out the window, staunchly ignoring the prickling at the back of his eyes, “Or, or maybe I came back _wrong_. Maybe I- maybe I came back realizing I wanted to kiss you more than Kim.” His stomach wrenches with the confession, and before he even realizes he’s doing it he’s thrown the door open and is vomiting on the side of the road. Fucking perfect. 

_It’s over now_ , he thinks while dry heaving, arms shaking as his fingers keep their deathgrip on the handle. There’s no way Steve’s ever going to kiss him again, get off with him again, now that he knows. Billy slowly, carefully hauls himself back into the car, wiping his mouth with the shoulder of his t-shirt, ignoring the tears in the corners of his eyes. He won’t look at Steve. He can’t. 

“Jason, I-” Billy shakes his head, cutting him off before he has to live through the rejection. 

“Don’t, just… _fuck_ , just take me back. Home.” He digs the heel of his palm into his eye, “I need to just go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me at [little-werewolf-oven](http://little-werewolf-oven.tumblr.com) on tumblr. I'm old and I need some writing friends~


End file.
